The Mask and the Gun
by Cimz
Summary: In which Julie Williams takes her position as family matriarch very seriously. Seriously enough to fake her little cousin Nick's death, in fact, even while her sister Hope searches for the killer. Chelsea/Nick; Hope/Aiden. Complete! Thanks, readers and reviewers. :)
1. Bribes and Favors

**The Mask and the Gun**

_Nick: What would you say if I asked you to rob a bank for me?_

_Chelsea: I'd say give me the mask and the gun, because I'm there for you. _

_Nick: You know that's not true._

_Chelsea: Yes it is. Because when it comes down to it, I would do anything for you._

_-Days of Our Lives, March 29, 2007_

**Disclaimer**: All characters are property of NBC, Sony, and Corday productions. No profit is being made from this fic.

**Note**: I put off starting this fic for months in the hopes that I would lose interest. I haven't. In my decade in Days internet fandom (okay, it's closer to two decades… leave me alone), I've met perhaps three people I would expect to enjoy this fic. Two of them are no longer active in the Days community. So, yeah. But anyway. Give it a try and back out if it's not your style.

* * *

**Part 1: Bribes and Favors**

Julie had spent the entirety of her life making some rather serious mistakes.

The mistake she had made that evening was a particularly glorious one. She'd left Nick alone in the park rather than frog marching him to a restaurant for dinner and Horton family secrets. It was not a mistake her grandmother would have made; of that, Julie was sure.

Luckily, Julie had learned in her life that mistakes themselves were not usually the cause of anyone's downfall. The cause of a fall was worrying about what was already done instead of taking action to change course.

Few people took action the way Julie Olson Banning Anderson Williams Williams Williams took action.

It wasn't hard for Julie to convince the paramedics to let her ride in the ambulance with Nick. It was important for her to be there to let Nick know that he wasn't alone, of course. But it was more important for her to get a jump on whoever it was who had shot Nick.

Julie had looked around the town square when Nick had collapsed bleeding in her arms, pointing at the person who had shot him. She had expected to see horror and fear on every face. Instead, she had seen boredom and relief. Nick wasn't safe. Half of Salem wanted Nick dead, and whether Nick deserved it or not was not Julie's concern. Half of Salem had probably wanted her dead once, too.

"We're taking him straight up to surgery. Skipping the ER," one of the paramedics told her.

She texted her young family members who had stood stone-faced in the Square short moments before: _We're arriving at the ER now._

That would buy her two or three minutes.

Time enough to call Bill's grandson Jeremy and request a plane equipped to transfer a critically wounded patient halfway across the country.

Time enough to call her old friend Senator Levin and ask him to arrange a place at the Smith Center in Fairfax County, Virginia.

Time enough to lay down the law that Nick's doctors were to speak only to her rather than making grand announcements to the family at large that was sure to assemble soon.

Time enough to offer an egregious amount of money to convince a young nurse's assistant to take on a little acting job on the side. Julie hated bribes, in general, and this might well blow up in her face. But if it didn't blow up in her face until Nick's life was saved, she didn't much care.

Soon enough, the waiting room filled with people.

Will and Sonny came in first. "Julie? Are you okay?" asked Will.

It was a perfunctory question, but a troubling one to Julie's newly suspicious mind. "Ask about Nick!" she reprimanded sharply.

"That was my next question," said Will, warm, compassionate, not taking offense where he didn't have to. "What- Is-"

"They just took him into surgery," she obliged, because there was really no way to lie.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

It was another perfunctory question, and Julie couldn't help but be irritated no matter how good Will's intentions. "I'd like the last two hours back, please. I was going to take him to dinner, and if I had this wouldn't have happened."

"I'm sorry," said Will, and he sounded like he meant it. But Will was the child of one of the biggest liars Salem had ever seen. Will couldn't really be all sweetness and light, as he presented himself, could he?

"I know you two disagreed with him. I know he made mistakes. But he didn't deserve this."

And she walked away before she had to listen to the usual explanation that Will was the good grandson of Bill Horton and Nick was the bad grandson of Marie Horton and obviously good had to defeat evil.

Will resolutely followed her. "Julie? Is there someone you need me to call?"

If only Will knew what calls Julie had made before he'd gotten in her way. But it was time for Julie to start playing the grieving matriarch. She couldn't have Will as suspicious of her as she suddenly was of Will (and Sonny, and Abigail, and the mouth-breather panting over Abigail, and Lucas, and Kate, and Sami, and that snake EJ DiMera). "Jessica. His mother. I don't even know what to say to her."

She glanced at the mouth-breather, finding him a better target than her little cousin Will. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Abigail's friend. Ben," he introduced himself.

"Did you even know Nick?"

"I met him once or twice."

"And you hated him, too." Julie narrowed her eyes. "Every last one of you hated him. He told me, but I didn't believe him."

Just in time, Julie's newest employee appeared in turquoise scrubs. "Ma'am. We have some forms that need signing."

Julie followed her deep into the bowels of the hospital, where Nick's doctor met her outside a recovery room. "How is he?" Julie demanded.

"His wounds were very severe. A major artery was struck. He coded twice. We revived him."

"And?"

"He survived the surgery and that is a very important first step. His odds only go up from here."

"Is he stable enough to be transferred to another hospital?"

"I would not recommend it."

"He was shot. As long as he remains here, the chance that someone will finish the job is too high."

"We have excellent security," the surgeon pressed.

"You have EJ DiMera on the hospital board. My grandfather built this hospital, and I know he would have been proud of you. You would have been welcome here in any era. But other things have changed. I'll arrange for the transfer. And I will pass the news along to my family."

She turned on her heel and headed back to the waiting room. The nursing assistant followed her like a shadow. "Count to 45 in your head. Then you come out. Just as we arranged." The young woman nodded. "You aren't having second thoughts?" Julie prompted.

"I have four children. One of them has asthma. Every time I miss a shift to sit in the emergency room with him, I get another warning for bad attendance. As if they have people lining up to work the overnight shift." She scoffed. "This one lie could change our lives. It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Julie looked her in the eye. "It's not a risk, darling. It's a sure thing."

Julie sighed inwardly when she saw that Hope had arrived. Lying to her sister- to Doug's daughter- was not a task that she relished. Hope would take Nick's "death" hard; Julie knew that she would.

Julie took Hope's hand in hers. "There hasn't been a word or a bulletin since he went into the operating room," she lied.

"Maybe _you_ could ask, Hope!" Maggie suggested brightly.

Hope looked inclined to do just that, and Julie wondered if her actress had the brains to come out before Hope used her badge to bypass the red tape Julie had tried to create around Nick.

"I'm looking for Mrs. Williams?" a voice piped up.

Julie rushed to her side. "Are you his doctor? Nick's doctor?" The young woman nodded gravely in a fair imitation of the real surgeon. "Well, how is he? How did the surgery go?"

"Mr. Fallon's wounds were very severe. A major artery collapsed. He coded twice. We revived him. But the last time…" The woman trailed off and hung her head.

Privately, Julie had to give her credit for keeping her story close to the truth. She had even avoided the outright lie of saying Nick had died.

"No!" shouted Julie. It worked to keep her family from questioning the pretended doctor more closely. But it also felt good to shout. "No, God, no!" She spun in aimless circles until Maggie grabbed her.

"He was pronounced dead ten minutes ago."

Something inside Julie shivered when the woman finally went all in on the lie. Or perhaps it was the truth? Perhaps Nick really had coded a third time?

"I'm so sorry for your loss," she completed, and would have left had Hope not asked for a minute alone with the body.

Julie kept her head buried in Maggie's shoulder. This would be the greatest test. Unhooking Nick from the machines and praying that his breathing was shallow enough that a seasoned police officer would mistake him for a corpse would not have been Julie's first choice. The room would be dark, and Hope would be grieving, and the power of suggestion was no small thing. Hope had been told that Nick was dead; she was hardly going to take his pulse.

But Julie still held her breath until Hope emerged and said that Julie, Maggie, and Gabi could say goodbye.

The room was so dark that Julie could hardly see. That was right; that meant that Hope would not have been able to see either. A sheet covered most of Nick's body. He lay with his eyes closed and his lips parted. He lay so still that he might have been dead.

If Julie had killed Nick with her plan to save him, she would never forgive herself.

Julie stroked Nick's hair, comforted to find that his skin was warm. "I should have stuck with you tonight, darling," she apologized for what she hoped would be the first of many times. "I asked him to go out to dinner tonight, but he said he wanted to be alone," she explained to Maggie. Maggie was crying; her vision must have been blurring, and Gabi looked half-crazed with fear. Neither one of them would trust herself if she thought she saw Nick breathing. "I should have been there more. Maybe he wouldn't have been in that terrible place. I should have been around…"

"I tried," whimpered Maggie. "Not enough. But I did try."

"No, we all failed him," Julie corrected. But if she got another chance, she wasn't going to fail her little cousin again.

"He didn't want help," whimpered Maggie, already making excuses for herself. Maggie hadn't really cared about anyone but her long-lost son Dan, and Dan's daughter Melanie, in years. Dan didn't like Nick, and Melanie didn't like Nick, so Maggie didn't care about Nick any longer.

"He didn't know how to ask for it, Maggie, and there's a difference!" Julie was struck with a vicious realization that she wasn't going to mind lying to Maggie. Hope, yes. Maggie, no.

"Sleep well, my angel," Maggie told Nick in a final sort of way.

In turn, Julie leaned down to brush her lips against Nick's face. "God give you peace, and glory."

_And if He doesn't, I certainly will._

* * *

Hope walked home from the hospital in the early hours of the morning. She would take a shower, give her children the bad news about Nick, and then get to work solving the crime.

Rafe had told her that she had no business investigating her own cousin's death. He was right and she knew it, but she didn't care. As long as the crime got solved, a voice in her head suggested, what did it matter if she breached protocol?

Her jaw tightened. The voice in her head sounded like Bo. Bo would never have recused himself from a case involving a family member, and Bo would never have let a little thing like best practices get in the way of what he, himself, thought was best.

Why Bo thought it best to leave her alone with their daughter for nearly two years was beyond her.

But now wasn't the time to worry about Bo. Instead, she had to take care of their children.

She called Shawn-D first. He and Belle had sailed to Australia earlier in the year and had liked it so much that they had put their daughter Claire in school there. Early morning in Salem was late evening in Australia; soon, it would be too late to call.

Besides, Shawn-D was both the oldest and the easiest. Telling Ciara, when she had already suffered more loss than any little girl should, was going to be an ordeal. And Chelsea…

Tears pricked Hope's eyes. Chelsea might just take it worse than Ciara.

Shawn-D answered his phone on the first ring. "Mom!" he said, his voice warm and happy. "Claire just went to bed, but I'll wake her up. I know she won't want to miss talking to you."

Hope swallowed hard. "No. No, Shawn, don't do that."

His tone changed abruptly. "What's wrong? Oh my God, is it Dad?"

"Your father's fine. As far as I know. I haven't heard anything new."

"Then what?"

"It's your cousin Nick. He… well, there's no easy way to say it. He was shot last night and the doctors did their best, but he didn't pull through."

Halfway around the world, Shawn-D exhaled heavily. "He was shot? Who would want to shoot Nick?"

It struck Hope with a fresh wave of sadness that Shawn-D had been away from Salem for a very long time. He still thought of Nick as the awkward, sweet young men who had come to town eight years before. Indeed, no one would have wanted to shoot that Nick. But the Nick who had smirked and threatened and tormented Will for being gay…

"Half of Salem wanted Nick dead. He wasn't the same boy you remember. Prison changed him."

"That's really hard to believe," Shawn-D mused. "Not that prison changed him. I mean, I do believe you. But when I think of Nick, I think of the guy who flew to Canada to give Belle and me the money we needed to get out of town before Philip could find us. Did I ever even tell you? I got arrested and he had to use the money you gave him to bail me out. He promised he would get enough to get us on a boat and he wouldn't let me ask how. It wasn't until a year later that Chelsea told me he got it by pawning the watch his parents bought him when he graduated at the top of his class at that Polytech place. Oh, God, Chelsea. Does she know?"

"She's my next call."

"Want me to do it?"

"That's sweet," said Hope, and it was. But she hadn't done enough to stop Nick's downward spiral. She couldn't change that now, but she could find his killer, and she could break the news to the girl who had once loved him with all of her heart. "Don't worry. I'll do it."

"I'll let you go, then," said Shawn-D. "Thanks for calling."

"I didn't want you to find out from Facebook."

"Call Chelsea right away. She's always online first thing in the morning."

"Right," Hope agreed, and they said their goodbyes.

For the past two years, her step-daughter had been working at a private hospital near Washington DC. Hope got the idea that most of the patients were politicians who did not want word of exactly what they'd done to land in the hospital to get out. Chelsea had never said for sure. She had only said that she'd taken the first job offered, and if it was far away from everyone she knew, so much the better.

Hope thought Chelsea seemed lonely enough without hearing what Hope had to tell her.

It was early in Washington, but not egregiously so. Chelsea would be getting ready for work. Numbly, Hope watched as her phone dialed Chelsea's number.

"Hope?" Chelsea's voice was full of fear. "What's wrong? Is it Dad?"

_Damn it, Brady, _Hope scowled inwardly. Bo had no business vanishing and leaving his children to worry like this. "Your father's fine, Sweetie. But I think you should sit down. I do have bad news."

"Don't try to soften it. That never works. Just tell me," ordered Chelsea.

Hope obeyed. "Nick Fallon died this morning."

"_What_?" Outraged explosions usually came first with Chelsea. Grief came later, often wrapped up in a self-destructive bundle.

"He was murdered. But I am going to find whoever did it, and I am going to make sure they're punished."

"You do that, Hope. You send them to prison for the rest of their lives. And you tell them from me that-" Chelsea's voice broke off so suddenly that Hope wondered if they had lost their connection.

"Chelsea? Are you there?"

"Yeah." She was silent again.

"What are you thinking?"

"Just that I don't really have a right to be upset, you know? I haven't seen Nick for, what, five years? I can't carry on like I'm the grieving widow when all he was was my college sweetheart."

"You have a right to whatever feelings you want to have. You loved Nick very much and he loved you very much. Even if he wasn't with you, of course you wanted to think that he was out there, somewhere, safe and happy."

"I guess." Chelsea's voice cracked. "I wouldn't be the person I am if it hadn't been for Nick. He saw through all my brattiness and lashing out. He saw that I could be smart, and good, and lovable and- he just saw me. I don't think you and I would even have ever gotten to be on speaking terms if it hadn't been for Nick."

"Yes, we would have," Hope promised. "You're Bo's daughter and you are a part of this family. We would have found a way." She shook her head to clear the memories of anger, pain, and Zack. "But Nick did make it a lot easier."

"I miss him so much. I hadn't seen him in years but now I miss him so much. People like him shouldn't die. Young people. Brilliant people. Of everyone I ever met in my life, the two was sure were going to change the world were Nick and-" She stopped just short of saying Zack's name, but Hope felt it. "I have to get ready for work. Thank you for calling."

"Are you sure you should go to work? You could take time off. You could come visit. Ciara would love to see you."

"I need to go to work," Chelsea repeated.

"I'll keep you up to date on the investigation. If that's what you want?"

"Yes. Please," said Chelsea, and she hung up without a proper goodbye.

Hope stared at the phone. "Do not do anything dangerous," she told Chelsea, even though there was no way for Chelsea to hear.

But there was one more call to make.

Unlike Shawn-D and Chelsea, Ciara let her phone ring and ring. Just before it went to voicemail, the little girl casually answered. "Hi, Mommy. Are you finally calling to tell me that someone murdered my favorite cousin?"

"I wanted to tell you, Ciara. I didn't want to wake you up."

"Allie did that," said Ciara matter-of-factly. "She's staying at Grandma's, too. She woke up screaming."

"Poor Allie," Hope sighed.

"Allie said that there was blood everywhere. She said Nick walked into the Horton Square pumped full of bullets."

"That's true," Hope admitted. She didn't care for Ciara's word choice, but it wouldn't do any good to lie to her daughter.

"Of course it's true. Allie doesn't lie. She's useless that way."

"Don't call your cousin useless," said Hope automatically.

"Whatever," said Ciara.

"I'll come see you before you go to school, all right?"

"Whatever," Ciara repeated.

It was going to be a long day.

**TBC**

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer:** _Some dialog in this chapter was taken directly from the May 12, 2014 episode of Days of Our Lives. _


	2. The Smith Center

**Part 2: The Smith Center**

The flight from Salem to Washington was a quick one, made even quicker by a private plane and a pilot who was family.

Julie never took her eyes off of the gentle rise and fall of Nick's chest. His breathing was shallow but steady, not hitching even when the small plane was buffeted by turbulence as its course swung from southeasterly to due east.

"Sorry," Jeremy called over his shoulder. "Couldn't avoid that, but I think we'll be okay from now until we land."

"Thank you, darling," she told him automatically.

"No problem," Jeremy said casually. Julie bit her lip to keep from scolding that the correct response was always "you're welcome" and never "no problem." She had just asked Jeremy to break half a dozen laws, and he had done it immediately and cheerfully. Just for today, she wouldn't quibble about his manners.

"Really, Jeremy," she repeated, her eyes still on Nick but the rest of her attention on the young pilot, "thank you. I know I asked you for a very big favor tonight. I hope it never has repercussions for you."

"Me too." Jeremy almost laughed. "But it's Nick. I'm willing to take the risk. He would have done it for me. He pretty much did. I should've gone to jail when Jett busted me for smuggling. Nick gave me a chance to run, and he didn't have to. I was a little shit to him, I really was, but he told me to get it together instead of telling me to go to hell."

"Why did you get mixed up in that in the first place?" Julie asked. "Smuggling. You didn't need the money."

"Young. Stupid. Looking for a rush." Jeremy shook his head in disgust. "I thought I was this badass. I never totally fit in Israel or in Salem, you know? Not quite Israeli. Not quite American. Not quite Jewish. Not quite Christian. None of that mattered when I was breaking the law because when I was being a jackass, I knew who I was. That's probably not something you would understand."

Julie sighed. She should have shared more with her younger family members—all of them. She hadn't made the mistake for the first time with Nick, but she could make it for the last time with him. "I'd understand better than you think, Jeremy," she said quietly.

For a long time, Jeremy didn't answer. Julie didn't push; it wasn't a good idea to distract the man flying the plane. Finally, Jeremy asked softly, rhetorically, whether prison had really been so terrible for Nick.

"It was," Julie confirmed. "Worse than we knew."

"I wonder what it would have been like for me if I'd let Jett put me in prison instead of running."

"Not that I condone what you did, but I'm glad that we won't have to find out."

"Unless we get caught tonight."

"Absolutely not," said Julie emphatically. "We'll tell them I threatened your cousin's life. It wasn't your choice to make." The story came together neatly in her mind. "When I first called you from Salem, all I told you was that I needed you to transport your cousin discreetly."

"That _is_ all you told me."

"The best kind of lie starts with the truth, doesn't it?"

She could feel him shift around in his seat to stare at her. For the briefest instant, she flicked her eyes away from Nick's chest to meet Jeremy's gaze. "Watch where we're going," she reprimanded.

"It's almost all computerized. You could fly this plane," said Jeremy, but he turned back to the rows of controls and dark windows.

"I'd love to," said Julie honestly. "Maybe another time. As I was saying, you had no idea that I intended to fake Nick's death until I got him on the plane. I told you that if you didn't take off, I would let Nick die for real to cover my own tracks. I would rather see him dead by my hand than by the hands of those self-righteous vipers in Salem. I couldn't take the idea of him trapped in a hospital bed just waiting for Victor or EJ or one of their minions to finish him off. You believed that the only way to keep Nick alive was to follow my orders. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you had no choice!"

"Or we can just keep our mouths shut and hope no one ever finds out," said Jeremy.

"That _would_ be preferable," Julie agreed.

* * *

That Julie even knew of the Smith Center's existence was something of a coup. Senator Levin had taken his third wife on a romantic cruise a decade or two ago; Doug and Julie had been seated at their table for the first night. Both the senator and his wife had taken a shine to Doug, as people inevitably did. (Julie certainly couldn't blame them.) Before long the two couples had been planning to meet for quick weekend getaways and exchanging extravagant Christmas presents.

When Senator Levin had crashed his car, in which he carried not one but three half-naked young interns and copious amounts of alcohol, it had been Julie that his wife had called. And it had been the Smith Center that had treated Senator Levin's injuries with the utmost discretion. Naturally, Julie had followed the media's coverage of the incident with rapt attention—but there had been very little coverage, and very few juicy details.

There had been no mention of the Smith Center.

The Smith Center didn't even appear when Julie Googled it. (However, it was entirely possible that Julie was Googling wrong. Perhaps she would ask Nick or Jeremy to try it sometime.)

The Smith Center's policy was that the only people suited to receive its services were the people who already knew how to find it.

"Mrs. Williams," the receptionist greeted her coolly while Nick was taken back to a private room. There was a file on Julie; she could see her own name clearly marked on a worn red folder. She had no doubt that the file had been started the moment she had first visited Senator Levin during his long recovery. "What's your relationship to the patient?"

"Cousin," she answered, coughing a little on the word as the dry sterility of the room tickled her throat.

The receptionist raised her eyebrows. "Cousin?" she asked dubiously, as if _cousin_ were a vague term that covered all manner of sins, which of course it was.

"Grandson," Julie corrected hastily. She didn't feel a shred of guilt about the lie. _Grandson_ described much better what Nick meant to her. _Cousin_ implied distance that didn't exist—or at least, a distance that wouldn't have existed during Alice Horton's lifetime.

"Grandson. All right," the receptionist agreed, finding the explanation much more palatable. Not even half an hour later Julie was permitted to park herself at Nick's bedside next to the IVs and monitors. It was as good a place as any to await the arrival of Jessica, Joshua, and Marie.

Julie had known that she could expect an argument from Jessica and Marie about her plan to lie about Nick's death.

She was still startled by the force of Marie's glare when the orderly escorted her to the room with the news that "Nick's grandmother is already with him."

Marie didn't glare.

Marie never glared.

When they'd been children, Julie had done enough glaring for both of them. Marie had been Tom and Alice's youngest child and Julie their eldest grandchild. They were only five years apart in age, contemporaries despite their generational placement on the family tree.

"What have you done, Julie?" Marie demanded, her arms crossed and her usually gentle eyes flashing. Josh and Jessica slipped around them and took their places by Nick's bedside, carefully stroking his hair and reading the notes on his patient chart. (Scientists, all of them, in this branch of the family.)

"I believe I've saved Nick's life," Julie told her quietly.

"By bringing him halfway across the country hours after someone shot him?"

Marie had always been the sweet, fragile darling of the family. Even in her wildest years, Julie had never been inclined to attack Marie. But at the moment, Julie did not care for Marie's tone. Not even a little bit. "Yes, Marie," she said tightly around her fear and exhaustion. "I brought him halfway across the country so no one could take another shot at him."

"Do they often have shootouts in University Hospital?"

"The Board is full of names like _Kiriakis_ and _DiMera_. I didn't think it was out of the question."

"You didn't think at all, and you took an incredible gamble with my grandson's life."

Julie just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Sorry about the grandson thing. It made checking him in easier."

"All these years, and you'd still rather do something easy than something honest. It's true that people just get to be more themselves as they get older, isn't it?"

Part of Julie wanted to explain exactly how far from easy it had been to get Nick out of Salem, but she couldn't indict Jeremy or the little CNA she'd bribed to pretend to be a surgeon. Part of Julie wanted to tell Marie how little grief there had been in their family's eyes when Nick had been pronounced dead. Part of Julie wanted to slap Marie and tell her that while Marie might have gotten old, Julie would _never_ do such a thing. In the end, she didn't say any of that.

Instead she shrugged, and allowed herself an internal vindictive celebration when Marie's eyes flashed with annoyance. "If you'd been there, you could have made the decision. You weren't, so I did."

"Don't turn this back on me," Marie snapped.

"Why not? It's fair," said Jessica quietly from her perch beside Nick. "Julie's right. I'm his mother, I should have known that something was going on."

"He always seemed fine in his texts and his emails," Josh mused, quietly stroking Jessica's arm. As far as Julie could tell, Joshua had revered Jessica from the moment they had met and had never stopped. "If he didn't ask for help—"

It was the same rationalization Maggie had used. "He didn't know how," said Julie.

"I don't think anyone is arguing that things should have gotten this far," Josh told her. "He's here now. We need to discuss what to do going forward, not what we should have done five hours or five months or five years ago."

"That's very reasonable, Joshua," said Julie with her brightest smile. Marie scowled. "Does anyone really want to move him back to Salem?"

"This equipment is state of the art," said Josh.

"I'm not going to compound whatever damage you did by moving him again, just to make a point," grumbled Marie.

Jessica shook her head. "All that's true. But doesn't it bother either of you how creepy this place is? All the security. All the secrecy."

"It's only for the patients' safety," Julie told her as gently as she could. "Half of Salem wanted Nick dead. He was threatening and blackmailing people left and right. I should have seen it earlier, but it wasn't until Abigail became so furious with him…" Julie trailed off.

"Nick and Abby were always so close," murmured Jessica. "I'm sure she didn't want him dead."

"I don't believe that she did, either," Julie agreed.

"She must feel horrible," said Josh. "We can't let the rest of the family think he's dead."

"Agreed," said Marie.

Jessica nodded. "Even if he was in danger in Salem, he's here now. No one can hurt him."

"Do you think EJ DiMera would rest until he found Nick if he believed that Nick was alive? If he believed that Nick was a threat?" Julie challenged.

Jessica hesitated.

"Am I going to have to be the one who points out the little matter that we're breaking about fifty laws?" asked Josh.

"How many laws are you willing to break for your son's life?" asked Julie.

Josh hesitated.

"He knew who shot him," Julie said meanly. "He pointed when he collapsed in my arms, but he couldn't speak. There were a dozen people who knew him right there, and the only one who appeared to care that he was bleeding to death was a nine-year-old girl."

"Ciara saw?" asked Marie, finally looking properly horrified.

"Allie. Lucas' daughter," Julie corrected.

"And you're all right with her having nightmares for the rest of her life because of this?"

"I don't like it at all," Julie admitted. Allie had had enough bad breaks for a lifetime when she'd been stuck with Sami Brady as a mother and EJ DiMera as a stepfather. "I just think it's the best choice. Allie's nightmares, or Nick's life? Abigail's guilt, or Nick's life? The law, or Nick's life? Don't you at least want to wait until he wakes up and can tell us what happened?"

"All right," Marie conceded begrudgingly, at last.

Outside, the sun was high enough in the sky to send blinding flashes of light into the room. A headache exploded behind Julie's eyes as they objected to the brightness.

She didn't care. Nick had lasted the night, and the morning, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Chelsea scowled at the bright Virginia summer sun and willed it go away.

The sun didn't listen. The sun was happy to keep on shining after Nick was gone.

It was part of Chelsea's job to be happy; such was the nature of any job involving customers, especially when those customers were rich and powerful. She wasn't bad at faking it, really; she had always been an exemplary liar. Even on a day like this, she was able to smile and nod at the young actor who needed occupational therapy to recover the use of his hand after punching a wall even though the young actor was whining about how it had somehow been his girlfriend's fault.

She smiled and nodded, but she thought _Nick wouldn't say something like that_.

The truth was that the actor had only said it because he was an idiot and a spoiled brat. Most men wouldn't have said anything so stupid. Nick, though, was the one she thought of because it was a day where everything was destined to make her think of Nick.

She saw a glass of water on a bedside table and thought of Nick getting an olive into a glass without touching it and asking whether the bartender who wanted to throw Chelsea in jail had ever heard of inertia.

She heard a plane flying overhead and she remembered the time she and Nick had flown to Canada to help Shawn, Belle, and Claire escape to Australia. She'd demanded that Nick take a magazine quiz, and he'd done it because he'd always been willing to do silly things to spend time with her.

She read a patient chart that mentioned a head injury and remembered Nick bleeding from his forehead after bearing the brunt of an explosion meant for Sami.

She saw row upon row of vaccines, and remembered Nick finding an antidote that had saved her Aunt Kayla's life.

Every time she saw a man's shadow or heard a man's footsteps, she wondered if it was Nick. That was silly; she knew Nick's shadow and she knew Nick's footsteps.

And she knew that Nick was dead.

"I wish you would have called me if you were in trouble," she whispered aloud when she sat under a tree and pretended to eat her lunch.

That was stupid. Nick wouldn't have called her; they hadn't spoken in years.

Still, he could have called someone. People liked Nick. People loved Nick. People would have wanted to help Nick.

She would have.

Even though they hadn't spoken for years.

"Idiot," she told the universe quietly. "For someone so fucking brilliant, you were an idiot."

_**TBC.**_

**Note**: _Two reviews and four follows! That's… more than I expected considering I'm sitting here writing a fic about a bunch of characters who are not on the show. Thank you!_


	3. Awesome Lady

**_Part 3: Awesome Lady_**

The park had been full of the scent of lilacs when Gabi shot Nick.

When Nick blinked awake in an unfamiliar bed and an unfamiliar room, he could still smell the lilacs. They were more overwhelming than the pain.

He never wanted to smell lilacs again.

"_Nicky_," his father's voice said urgently. Two hands squeezed one of Nick's.

Nick wanted to laugh. His parents hadn't called him "Nicky" since… well, they'd never really stopped calling him that. But he'd barely spoken them for years, both by accident and by design. It was odd to hear a little boy's name attached to a grown man who had destroyed his own life so completely.

"Make the lilacs go away," he whined at Josh.

Then he lost consciousness again.

* * *

For a week and a half after Nick's murder, when she might have been expected to seek solace in her family, Hope immersed herself in her work. In this situation, though, work and family were one and the same. She questioned Abigail and Will and Lucas- Lucas over and over, because he seemed particularly set on presenting her with obvious lies. She received a frustrating voicemail from Julie announcing that she had left town with Nick's body so he could be buried near his parents' home, but managed to question Julie over the phone just the same.

Once again, Rafe tried to tell Hope that she had no business interrogating her own lying family members. Once again, she ignored him.

In some ways, questioning her family was easier. She knew when Lucas was lying. She was quite familiar with him, after all.

In some ways, questioning strangers was easier. She didn't expect to have to face Jordan Ridgeway or Ben Rogers across the table at Thanksgiving dinner. (After the way Lucas had behaved, he could expect a pitcher of gravy to fall accidentally into his lap. Or perhaps over his head.)

There was no way that questioning Aiden Jennings was easier, even though he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for Nick's having one of his business cards. Nick, it seemed, had wanted to hire Aiden to represent Gabi should she sue Will and Sonny for sole custody of her daughter Arianna Grace. Abigail had recommended Aiden to Nick. Both Abigail and Gabi confirmed Aiden's story. Still, it felt almost like a violation to hear Aiden talk about how Nick had cowed Gabi during the meeting.

Nick had been Hope's cousin, Jessica's son, Marie's grandson. Aiden, who had spent most of their acquaintance passing judgment on everything Hope did and everyone Hope loved, shouldn't have been allowed to know things that Hope didn't know.

Then thread that finally pulled the knot of the mystery loose presented itself in the form of Will. Apparently a desire to obstruct justice was a hereditary traint. Like Lucas, Will seemed inclined to lie unconvincingly with the obvious intent of muddying the waters- or even taking the fall for something he had not done.

That left Hope with a very, very short list of suspects. The obvious one was Will's husband Sonny, but Sonny was singularly unlikely to allow such a thing. Sonny clearly had no idea that there was anything to cover up. Only one person could have killed Nick, but left behind evidence that left Will thinking it had been Sonny.

Hope sighed heavily as the answer clicked into place.

Gabriela Hernandez.

Not her family after all, but Rafe's.

She left Will ranting and raving at the police station, knowing that Sami, Lucas, and Sonny could be trusted to keep Will from going too far down the road of perjury in the next hour. An hour was all she needed.

She knocked on the door of the apartment Will, Sonny, and Gabi all shared with the baby. Anyone could tell that it was a happy, if untraditional, home. Small wonder that all three of the adults had contemplated murder to keep Nick from disrupting it.

Gabi answered the door with her year-old daughter in her arms.

"I'm here on police business," Hope told her, not looking too long at the child who was going to grow up without a parent, just as Ciara was doing now that Bo had vanished.

They talked about babies, at first, to break the ice. Gabi said the things all young mothers say. That at first she and Will had believed that Arianna would stay tiny forever, and then all of a sudden she fit into clothes that had once seemed far too big to ever be of use. That Arianna had been a different baby every few months for the first year of her life.

"They change, but they stay the same, too," Hope assured Gabi, hoping the girl would remember that when she dreamed of reuniting with her daughter after their inevitable separation. "I see that with Ciara."

Gabi nodded, wise in the way of all young mothers. In that moment, Hope knew that Gabi was ready.

"Will confessed to Nick's murder," Hope told her.

If she hadn't already been sure that Gabi- who had had means, motive, and opportunity- was the killer, she would have known it by the horrified, shattered look on Gabi's face.

"No," said Gabi. She didn't cry; she didn't scream. "No, he can't do that."

"Why can't he?" Hope asked gently.

Gabi looked into Hope's eyes, and Hope saw Gabi realize that Hope knew. "He can't do it because it wasn't him. It was me. I knew where Sonny's gun- Victor's gun- was. I just wanted Nick to stop. It was- it was almost too easy."

She went quietly to the police station with Hope and repeated her confession formally.

Hope had rarely seen a killer so calmly repentant and willing to face prison, yet so nobly convinced that there had been no other choice.

In truth, in that moment, Gabi reminded her of Nick on the day he went to prison for the murder of Trent Robbins.

The world of crime was full of vicious cycles, but none quite like this one.

* * *

Hope escaped to the park once she was assured that the rest of Gabi's confession could be handled without her presence. She had lived and breathed Nick's murder for almost two weeks, and now that it was over things weren't any easier.

She sat on the bench and looked at the familiar picture of Bo that had a place of honor on her phone. "How am I supposed to get through this without you to talk to?" she asked aloud. "I wish I could explain this to Ciara. What do I say to your mom? Where the hell are you, Brady? What could be more important than your family?"

She leaned her head back and stared at the sky. It was a beautiful early summer day- something Nick would never experience again. Something Gabi would never enjoy freely until she was a much older woman. Something little Arianna Grace would never share with her mother.

Hope closed her eyes, then opened them as she sensed that she was not alone.

Aiden Jennings was standing less than three feet away, watching her closely.

It was a testament to how far she and Aiden had come in the six months they'd known each other that she was relieved to see him and not someone who had any real involvement with the Nick Fallon murder case. She didn't want to argue with her family or assuage one of Nick's victims.

Still, even though Aiden was no longer as joyless and judgmental as he'd been when they'd first come face to face at Saint Luke's elementary school, she didn't exactly relish the idea of a conversation. The only person she really, truly wanted to see was Bo.

Hope stood up and crossed her arms defensively. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." _It's a public park, Hope. Anyone can come here. That's kind of the point, _she reminded herself.

"I was in court all morning. I needed a break." He looked her over and she could see him making note of her worry and tiredness- something that she would not have thought him capable of doing short months before. "How are you doing?"

She still wasn't in the mood to talk to him. "Great," she told him, with her best smile.

"Well, there it is," he said. His voice dripped with his usual assurance that he was definitely right.

"What?" she asked, her morbid curiosity outweighing her annoyance at being interrupted.

"That smile you force when you're upset. You used it a lot on me when we first met. You deployed it at the bake sale when that prissy little girl said you didn't give her back the right change."

"I didn't realize I did that," she said. If Aiden had said it with a sneer, or an accusation, she would have told him what a horrible human being he was and enjoyed it. It was have been a fine way to get rid of her pent-up anger. But instead, he was kind, almost gentle. It left her feeling naked right there in the middle of the park.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked. He sat down on the bench and invited her to sit beside him. In confused exhaustion, she did. She felt his arm on the bench behind her, protective instead of challenging, but she leaned away from it. She had an odd feeling that if any human being touched her, she might go to pieces. And Hope did not go to pieces. Hope was a cop and a mother and tougher than that.

"It's pretty complicated," she managed around the lump rising in her throat.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah. Hey." Then his arm was around her and she was crying against his chest.

It only lasted a few seconds before she pulled herself together. "Sorry," she choked out as she fumbled in her bag for a tissue. "I don't usually do that."

"Having a miserable day, huh? Hate when that happens," he said with what passed for humor with Aiden.

She forced a chuckle as she dried her eyes. "Me too."

"Like I said, I was at the courthouse. I heard that Gabi Hernandez confessed to killing Nick Fallon. I called her and left a message, offered to represent her." He paused, shifting gears from shop talk back to the personal. "What's this like for you?"

No one else had asked that. Not Julie, who busy throwing fits about bringing Nick's killer to justice as if Nick had somehow been innocent. Not Rafe, with his dour glares that Nick had had it coming and asides that Hope should not be working the case. Not Bo, because he wasn't here. "I wanted to believe so badly that he had changed, that Nick had changed. That he was okay."

"You know, from what I saw of Nick, he had a mind of his own. For whatever reason, Gabi wasn't asking for help. There's really nothing that you could have done."

Hope bristled just slightly. "I'm sorry, but you're basing that on one meeting. One meeting. You didn't really know anything about the situation. Or me, for that matter."

"Maybe you're right about Gabi and Nick. But I know you better than you think."

"No. No. Nope. You don't know me as well as you think you do, Aiden." She stood up again, safely away from the touch that made her want to cry and scream and ask for safe harbor.

He stretched out on the bench, enjoying a battle with her as he usually did. "Well, I disagree. See, I have the unique point of view of someone who misjudged you on sight." Hope hadn't expected that. She turned to face Aiden and he, too, stood up from the bench. "But when I finally saw who you are, I said 'you know, I should be a little bit more observant.' And I have been."

"And what do you see?"

"I see a good, decent person. Someone who doesn't give herself enough credit for all the good that you do. So I'm sorry if I disappoint you, but I'm going to continue to think of you as an awesome lady."

It was the nicest thing anyone had said to Hope for a year.

"But don't let it go to your head," Aiden added.

"You don't have to worry about that."

"Come on. You know that I'm right. Just admit it."

Hope smiled, admitting nothing but ready to face the rest of her day. "Are you heading back to the courthouse?" she asked Aiden.

"Yeah. Walk with me?"

She nodded, sorting through her thoughts and deciding which to share with him. "The thing about Nick," she said, carefully not meeting his eyes so they would not have a repeat performance of tears and hugging, "is that yes, he was forceful and out of control. I'm not going to say you didn't know what you were looking at when he pushed Gabi to ask for primary custody of Arianna Grace. I told him myself, one of the last times I saw him, that he might have some people fooled but that I didn't trust him."

"You were right."

"I wasn't right. I wasn't right when I let it go at that instead of pushing harder and making sure he had what he needed to be the kind of person he was supposed to be. He was my family. I should have taken better care of him."

"He was an adult. Your distant cousin, right?"

"First cousin once removed, technically." She launched easily into the explanation; she had clarified her family's complicated interconnections so many times over the years that doing it had become rote and comforting. "His mother, Jessica, she's my first cousin. We were good friends when we were teenagers. That is, until the day I found out that she tried to elope with Jake Kositchek, and I was so in love with him." Hope almost laughed at the memory of being infatuated with a man who was not Bo. It was easy to forget that that had ever happened.

"You never forgave her?" asked Aiden with interest.

Hope smiled again. "Of course I did. There were extenuating circumstances." Extenuating circumstances like Jake turning out to be a murderous psychopath. Extenuating circumstances like Jessica's mental illness.

The smile fell from her face. Had Nick inherited Jessica's mental instability the way Jessica had inherited it from Aunt Marie? Was that what had caused such a drastic change in his personality, combined with the traumas he had lived through in prison?

She swallowed the question down. It would be no good to wonder now. Instead, she plastered what she hoped was a playful expression on her face.

"Anyway, Nick was Jessica's son. My Aunt Marie's grandson. Do I need to email you the Horton family tree?"

"If I'm going to live in Salem, it might be helpful," said Aiden. He wasn't wrong. "But it's not as if he was your child or-"

"That's the thing." She pulled out her phone again and swiped through the pictures. "This is Chelsea," she told Aiden. "She's Ciara's older sister. My stepdaughter."

Aiden admired the picture appropriately. "She's very pretty. She could pass for your daughter."

"There was a time when neither one of us would have taken that as a compliment. Bo didn't know about Chelsea until she was a teenager."

"The mother couldn't be bothered to tell him?" asked Aiden with unexpected viciousness.

Hope filed his reaction away for further evaluation later. "No, actually, Billie was tricked as well. She believed that Chelsea died at birth. Chelsea was none too pleased to be handed a new set of parents and a wicked stepmother at the age of sixteen. The only person in the family she really liked was Zack." She swiped through the pictures again Zack, forever six years old, beamed out at them. "Bo's and my son. Ciara's older brother."

"I didn't realize you had other children."

Hope shook her head, not wanting to get further ahead in the story. "Zack was my second and Bo's third. Our son Shawn-Douglas is in Australia now. Shawn-D isn't very much older than Chelsea, and suffice it to say they were oil and water at the beginning. But Zack… everyone loved Zack.

"Chelsea was busy redefining what it means to be a troubled teenager. She lost her driver's license and she batted her eyes at Bo until he wrote her a temporary one. She was his long lost daughter after all, and it was hard for him to say no. She was on her phone and she was distracted. Meanwhile Zack was at a sleepover with one of his friends. The family had a cat that was allowed out at night, and Zack was convinced that he had to go find it. He went into the road, and-"

"Oh no," Aiden breathed.

"She didn't mean it, of course. At that point in her life Zack was about the only person she truly loved. I know now that she thinks of him every day and would die in his place just as much as I would. But at the time, I didn't know how to forgive Bo, and I didn't know how to forgive Chelsea. Of course one of the things that helped was Ciara coming along. And the other thing that happened was my cousin Nick showing up and taking a shine to Chelsea."

"So your cousin and your stepdaughter."

Hope shrugged. "Forget about degrees of separation. I was just afraid that she would eat him alive. The Nick we knew then was nothing like the Nick you met. He wouldn't have dreamed of manipulating or lying or blackmailing. He went out of his way for everyone he met. It's entirely possible that he saved Shawn-D's life. And when he met Chelsea, he took everything she dished out and gave her back patience and kindness. You mentioned what it's like to look at someone and know you judged them unfairly? That's what happened when I saw Chelsea through Nick's eyes. I saw that this was a scared teenage girl who needed me. She needed love and her family. I'd like to think I would have figured it out without Nick, but that isn't what happened. Nick is what happened. And my family owed it to him to pay him back in kind, and I fell down on the job. But all I could do was find his killer."

"And it turned out to be the woman he loved."

"And my family is pretty evenly split between devastation and celebrating because Nick is rotting in hell."

"I'm sure he's not in hell," said Aiden quietly.

"Thanks," said Hope. She was close enough to hell herself to know that she would never have wished it on Nick.

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer: **_Some dialog in this chapter was taken directly from the June 4, 2014 episode of Days of Our Lives. The "awesome lady" moment was too good not to borrow._


	4. The Sentence

**Part 4: The Sentence**

Every time Nick awoke, he was a little bit stronger and a little bit more coherent. For all that, no matter how Marie asked and Jessica cajoled and Josh ordered and Julie pleaded, Nick gave them no answer about who had shot him or why.

At first they agreed that Nick was still confused and in shock. When the pain and disorientation faded, they hoped, they would get a proper explanation.

The disorientation faded. Nick was able to remember twenty year old family jokes and follow the doctors' directions to the letter.

He had nothing to say about who had shot him.

"Please, Nick," coaxed Julie, who was used to finding a way to get anything she wanted and had no qualms about begging if she thought it would help. "I know we've failed you, but it won't happen again. Please do us the honor of letting us keep you safe."

"You didn't fail me. And I'm safe," said Nick flatly. "Who could get in here? Who would want to?"

"Who would want to is such an interesting question," Julie pretended to muse. "For example, who would want to shoot you in the park and leave you there, and then come to the Horton Town Square and watch you drag yourself—"

"Julie!" snapped Marie, who was not a fan of the imagery.

"I'm sorry, Julie," Nick said. "I don't remember that night very well. A lot of people wanted to shoot me and I deserved it. It could have been anyone. The rest of Salem will probably give her a medal."

"_Her_?" Julie seized.

"Or him. I just didn't want to continue to assert the privileged status bestowed on men by the patriarchy by using the male pronoun as a default."

"All right, Nick Fallon. There will be no changing the subject. You will tell me right this second—"

"He doesn't remember," said Marie. "Let him be. It's perfectly normal for a patient who has experienced a trauma this severe not to remember what happened."

"Be that as it may, _Nick_ remembers and Nick is going to—" Nick closed his eyes. "I'm not done with you, Nick. Open your eyes!"

"You are very much done with him," Marie corrected, and she escorted Julie from the room. Once out of Nick's earshot, Marie launched into a lecture about badgering Nick when what Nick needed was rest. "If Nick doesn't ever remember, I don't care," said Marie firmly. "I just care that he's here with us now."

Julie rolled her eyes. "We all agree that the most important thing is that he's here now. I seem to be the only one who thinks that the second most important thing is making sure he's still here tomorrow instead of in the clutches of some killer who will try again given the slightest opportunity."

"You're correct. The rest of us think that the second most important thing is making sure he feels comfortable and secure so that he will have every chance to recover. He's very fragile physically and mentally, and your crusade for justice to assuage your own misplaced feelings of guilt is not helping."

Julie huffed, but she didn't challenge Marie, because she wasn't going to get anything out of Nick in the mood he was in anyway.

Marie and Julie likely would have had that argument a dozen times over had not Julie gotten a call from Hope the next day.

"Have you done it?" Julie demanded in lieu of a proper greeting. "Did you find Nick's killer?"

Hope didn't seem to take offense. "We have a confession," she said. Julie could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "You might want to sit down. This is a hard story to hear."

"Of course it is, it ends with Nick being shot to death," Julie grumbled, but she took Hope's advice and sank into a chair.

"It was Gabi Hernandez."

Julie sat bolt upright. She should have realized it. Nick had told them that the shooter was a woman, no matter how much he had denied it later, and the shooter was obviously someone Nick wanted to protect.

She should have realized at the time that it had been Gabi, but instead Gabi had been practically the only person in all of Salem that she hadn't accused. The girl had looked so bereft, and so harmless, and Julie had underestimated her terribly. It was not a mistake she would repeat. From now on there would be only vengeance and no sympathy.

"I'll be there tomorrow," she promised Hope. "I'll speak to the little guttersnipe myself."

"She is in police custody and she has a right to choose not to speak to you." Julie assumed that Hope was only saying things like that because she had to. Julie knew that Hope couldn't possibly believe that Julie wouldn't be on her way as soon as she heard the news.

"And Nick had a right not to be shot by the woman he loved," Julie concluded. "See you tomorrow, Darling. Love you."

* * *

"Love you, too, Julie," Hope said as she hung up the phone. She crossed breaking the news to her sister-slash-stepmother off her mental list of things she really did not want to do. It had gone as well as could reasonably expected.

The best case scenario, she had to admit, would have involved Julie and Doug getting on a cruise ship and not coming back to Salem until Gabi was behind bars and everyone had come to terms with Nick's death as much as possible. That could not happen for two reasons. Firstly, Doug and a group of old friends who were doing two weeks' worth of shows in Vegas and Julie had forbidden Doug to cancel; one of the old men was dying of cancer and this might be Doug's last chance to see him. Secondly, Julie never made anything that easy.

Still, Julie had kept her ravings to a minimum and that was something at least. It was actually less frightening than Ciara's cool "I never liked her anyway" or Chelsea's disgusted "Nick always did have terrible taste in women."

Hope glanced around the room. Everyone was working peacefully; there were no fires to put out.

A few moments later, Marlena emerged from the room where she had met with Gabi for an informal, confidential counseling session. If Hope hadn't known Marlena for so many years, she might well have missed the tightness of Marlena's lips or the tension in her shoulders. Marlena was angry, and she wasn't angry at Gabi.

Gabi was obviously guilty of murder; all of the evidence confirmed her version of events. However, there was undoubtedly more to the story. Just as Will had wanted to take the fall to protect Sonny, Gabi was hiding something to protect someone.

Again, Hope sighed inwardly. If Gabi's attorney had been anyone but EJ DiMera, she could have appealed to him as a professional. They could have worked together to uncover additional issues and take any mitigating circumstances into account where Gabi was concerned.

If only Gabi had chosen one of the usual defense attorneys, like Luis Jones or Andrea Grant or even…

He was there, she noticed, out near the passageway to the courthouse with the other defense attorneys. No doubt he was arranging bail for one client or another.

She wondered how she had missed seeing Aiden there for so long before Chase and Ciara had had their difficulties at school. The idea that he could have been so close, and she wouldn't have been aware of him, struck her as oddly painful. She wasn't sure why she cared. They hadn't had the most positive of relationships even though the day before he'd unexpectedly called her an awesome lady. (Who would have expected straight-laced and proper Aiden Jennings to use words like "awesome," let alone apply them to Hope?)

Aiden sensed her gaze and met it, and then detached himself from his knot of colleagues to stride into the police station to meet her. Something fluttered inside of Hope—as if convincing Aiden to do anything, even walk across the room, was a triumph to be celebrated.

"Am I in trouble again, detective?" he queried, half-concerned, half-playful.

She fell into bantering mode easily. "Not this time, Mr. Jennings. But don't get too confident."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He flashed his dimples. She'd never really noticed them before.

_I didn't notice because I'm a married woman and what the man looks like isn't important,_ she scolded herself. _All that's important is getting the St. Luke's Gala organized and making sure Ciara and Chase don't go back to shoving each other around the playground._

"And you're still staring at me," Aiden said. "You want to take a mug shot? It'll last longer."

"Maybe later." Smiling felt good, but tiring. "I was wondering whether Gabi ever gave you any indication of why she wanted to be represented by EJ and not you."

"If she had, I couldn't tell you," Aiden reminded her. "But as it happens, no, she never returned my call. I think she was already in the process of agreeing to the plea deal before she ever checked her messages."

"Am I correct in assuming that the terms of the plea have already made it into the rumor mill?"

Aiden nodded.

"Do you think that's a reasonable deal? If she'd been your client, would you have encouraged her to take it?"

"If she were my client, I would know a lot more about the facts and her

preferences than I do." Hope opened her mouth to try to persuade him to guess anyway. He saved her the trouble. "Yes, I believe that I'd be able to get her a lesser sentence if we went to trial, but I understand why a kid in her position doesn't want to take that risk. The plea is reasonable for the crime. It's not something I'd feel bad about my client taking. It's pretty standard. Good, even. But you know that as well as I do."

That was true, Hope agreed. Perhaps Julie's recent rants against the DiMeras in general and EJ in particular were getting to her. Perhaps the knowledge that Bo had left the police force in part to free himself of the red tape that protected the Stefano DiMera was simmering in her and making her look for a mystery where there was none.

Perhaps she just didn't want to see Julie the next day.

* * *

Julie took Hope's hands in hers as soon as she arrived at the police station in Salem. The rush of guilt returned- Julie didn't like to lie to Hope- but she pushed it away.

"When did you get in?" asked Hope.

"A couple of hours ago."

Hope dutifully asked the correct question. "How are Jessica and Marie doing?"

Somehow it was more annoying to Julie that Hope would say the right thing instead of the wrong thing. The whole situation would be more palatable if Hope deserved to be a fed a lie. Annoyance was something Julie could work with. Annoyance was something a woman whose young cousin was newly murdered would feel all the time. "They're still in shock, Hope, wouldn't you be? Nick was shot to death by the woman he loved, who loved him. He was hoping the two of them would marry again-"

"No. No, no, no. That was Nick's fantasy. Gabi didn't want any part of that. Nick had a lot of us fooled about a lot of things."

"Let's not blame Nick too much, shall we?" suggested Julie. "He is dead, after all. And as I told you on the phone, I want to see that girl."

"And as I told you on the phone, that's not a good idea."

"I'm not asking your opinion. I am telling Detective Brady that I want to talk to Gabi Hernandez."

Hope went to ask Gabi's permission, as if Gabi should have had any say in the matter. A moment later Hope returned and led Julie back to one of the interrogation rooms.

Julie kept her ears peeled as she drew nearer the girl who had tried to murder Nick. Gabi's young, high voice drifted into the hall. "_I can't keep hiding from the people I hurt. The people who loved Nick."_

"_One of the few," _sneered EJ DiMera, a man who would have gone without love if there had been any justice in the world. Though perhaps, Julie mused, Sami Brady's love was worse than no love at all. Julie couldn't believe that she had once bent over backwards to get Sami and Lucas married off. Lucas was better off rid of Sami.

"No," Julie told Hope. "I can't do this if he's in the room."

"This is something I need to do," said Gabi with a wise but childlike assurance that Julie would have appreciated on any other young woman. "I'll be okay."

"You'll be in the room the entire time?" EJ asked Hope over Julie's head.

"Yes, of course," Hope confirmed, as if stating that Julie was not to be trusted didn't even warrant the energy to draw breath.

EJ left the room, oozing self-righteousness to which he was not entitled.

"Julie," began Gabi before Julie even had a chance to look at the girl properly, "I know you must feel-"

"You don't know anything." Julie wasn't sure she'd ever spoken truer words in her life. "You killed Nick. Don't you dare tell me what I feel."

"I know you hate me. I don't blame you."

"I just got back from taking Nick's body to his parents and his grandmother. Do you have any idea how that felt?" Gabi was silent, and Julie warmed to her task. "No? Nothing to say? Do you have any concept of what you have done to their lives?"

"I think that because I'm a mother, I have an idea of how much it must hurt," whispered Gabi. Julie began to forgive herself for having believed in the girl's fragility. She was a hell of an actress.

"Nick loved you. Don't forget. I was there in the hospital when you went in to see his body so I saw how much you cared. And I'm curious. _Why_? Why did you kill him?" That was what Julie really needed to know. That was what would help her sort through Nick's issues and put him back on the path to a safe, contented life.

"I don't know if I can explain it all. All I can say, Julie, is that I just- I couldn't take any more."

"What was it you couldn't take? All the love he was offering you? All the dreams he had for you and your baby?"

"Julie, I don't expect you to understand."

"The boy worshipped you."

"He worshipped an idea he had. I was pretending like things were okay or things were going to be better, but he owned me, and every day he would tighten his grip on my life until I couldn't breathe."

"Why didn't you just tell him to back off?"

"Because that would have set him off, and who knows what he would have done? He was trying to take Ariana away from Will and Sonny. He took control of my life, and Ariana's life."

"So you murdered him." Julie was not impressed. Gabi wasn't telling her what Nick had done, or what Nick had threatened to do. She was only telling Julie what Nick might have done in some alternate universe.

"I'm so sorry. I know what I did was wrong, and I can't change it, Julie. I'm sorry."

"Well, you've got that right."

"I know that you loved him, and I'm so very sorry, Julie," Gabi whimpered.

"It's time to go," said Hope quietly, and she made to guide Julie from the room. Julie let her; Gabi clearly wasn't willing or able to offer a real explanation. At the last minute, though, Julie turned back to Gabi.

"I hope you hate yourself for the rest of your life," Julie told Gabi, and she obediently followed Hope to her desk. "Do you believe a single word she said?" she demanded when they were alone.

"What I believe is that Nick didn't deserve to die," said Hope. "That's what I believe. Julie, Nick had a lot of emotional problems. From what I dug up during the investigation, he was making life hell for a lot of people, including the people that cared about him."

"So. A lot of people wanted him dead." Hope didn't respond. She didn't have to. Hope and Julie seated themselves on opposite sides of Hope's desk with its files and coffee mugs and out-dated photographs of Ciara. "Well, no. No. It's wrong. I don't care what Nick did. He was sorry for it. He repented. He told me so. He deserved to have a second chance. Gabi saw to it that he didn't get one. So Gabi doesn't deserve to get one either."

* * *

The next day, Hope called Julie and suggested that they meet at Sonny's coffeehouse. It was near the police station and the courthouse, and they would be able to have the formal, required discussion about Gabi's plea deal. Gabi would be sentenced to twenty years- as long again as her life had been so far- but Hope did not see Julie as accepting that sentence as nearly harsh enough. Once again, Hope wished that Julie had gone with Doug to Las Vegas or on a cruise to Alaska or somewhere that wasn't Salem.

"You said it was important?" asked Julie after gesturing that Ben should bring her a black coffee.

"It is. Gabi's entering a plea this morning at the courthouse. As Nick's family, you have a right to object to the deal."

She handed the paperwork to Julie and counted down in her head. _Five, four, three, two..._

"This plea deal is a joke, all right?" said Julie.

"The D.A. made the offer and Gabi accepted it. I imagine the judge will approve it and sentence Gabi today," said Hope as mildly as she could, though she had never noticed another person's calmness making Julie calm even once in her life.

"Do Joshua and Jessica even know about this? Have you told them about this?" demanded Julie.

"I haven't heard from them. Actually, I haven't heard from anyone else in the family. So I'm assuming that they're okay with it and they don't have a problem with it."

"How can they not have a problem with it? It's as though Gabi would be paying a parking fine instead of being punished for committing murder."

"She'll be spending years behind bars."

"Not nearly long enough, Hope. This isn't justice and you know it. This is anything but. How did this insane deal even come to be?"

"Well, the D.A., the mayor, and the governor were concerned about bad publicity. They don't want a trial dragging on."

"Outrageous. Absolutely outrageous. It's as though Nick's life wasn't worth anything at all. He was a brilliant, he was kind, he was trying to-"

"And a maniac," interrupted Ben as he returned with Julie's coffee. Hope flinched. Ben was going to make this harder, not easier. "The first time I saw the guy he was attacking Abigail. His own cousin."

"Yes, I know who Abigail is," said Julie, cool enough to freeze her coffee then and there.

"Well, no man should talk to a woman, or anyone, like he did," announced Ben.

"Have I asked for your opinion?" asked Julie.

"Will you excuse us, please?" Hope asked Ben.

"Sure. I'm sorry," said Ben, and he left.

"I suppose he expects a tip," sneered Julie. "What? The busboy? A virtual stranger thinks he's qualified to put in his two cents? Oh, God, everyone's ready to pour it on now that Nick's dead."

"Nick made a lot of people angry."

"Why are you making excuses for everyone? Whose side are you on?"

"Julie, I am devastated that Nick's dead. Can't you see that? But we can't pretend that Nick was innocent in all of this. I don't see how a long, drawn-out trial is going to help anyone."

"I disagree."

"I'd better get going. Gabi's due in court soon. I'm guessing I'll see you there?"

"Oh, you'll certainly see me there. I really don't care what anybody else thinks. I'm going to make sure Nick gets the justice he deserves."

Hope ran back to her office, dialing her phone as she went. Aunt Marie, Jessica, and Josh had not returned her voicemails or responded to the copy of the plea deal she had overnighted them. She assumed, as she'd told Julie, that this meant they had no objection to the deal and simply did not want to be disturbed in their grief.

Julie wasn't going to listen to Hope; she'd made that abundantly clear. But she might listen to Nick's bereaved parents and grandmother, and that might spare everyone involved a drawn out trial that wouldn't bring Nick back.

_I really need to talk to you. I'm sorry. I know you're grieving. This is important, _Hope texted Jessica before calling her.

Jessica answered right away. Hope hadn't heard her cousin's voice in years. It was sad and disconcerting.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," Hope told her. "And of course, I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Hope," said Jessica, and Hope tried to feel out whether Jessica had been crying.

"I know the words don't mean anything. I know that what you're going through is as hard as it gets, and-"

An image of Zack rose unbidden before her eyes. Zack was laughing and dancing. Bo was dancing with him, and Zack was trying to imitate his father's moves.

Hope longed for the days when she and Jessica had been the kind of cousins who shared ice cream sundaes instead of the kind of cousins who shared the experience of outliving a beloved son.

"Thank you, Hope," Jessica repeated. "You said it was important that we talk," she prompted.

"Gabi Hernandez is being sentenced today."

"Mmm," said Jessica non-commitally.

"She's agreed to a plea deal that will keep her in prison for about twenty years. She has a one-year-old daughter and she'll miss that little girl's childhood entirely."

"I saw the copy of the agreement that you sent."

"Then you have no objections? You don't feel that the sentence was too light?"

"I'm sure that the police and the attorneys made the right decision," said Jessica.

"Julie doesn't feel that way. I spoke to Julie this morning and she intends to do everything in her power to make sure that there is an extended trial and that Gabi is sentenced to life. She wants to punish Gabi, but I'm concerned that a very public trial where Nick's character is attacked at every turn would punish other people as well. Including you. Julie won't listen to me, but you're Nick's mother."

"I've been trying to call Julie," Jessica conceded, surprising Hope. "Her phone has been off."

"Stay with me," said Hope. "I'll get you through to her so you can get through to her."

* * *

"I have every reason to believe the plea deal will go ahead as planned," EJ was saying when Julie arrived at the courthouse.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Julie corrected. She glanced distastefully at Gabi, who as usual looked young and innocent. "You took Nick's future away from him, so I am here to do the same to you."

"Julie. This isn't the time or the place," reprimanded Hope as if she were the (step)parent and Julie were the child.

"You're right," agreed Julie. "I'll have my say in the courtroom. And by the time I'm finished, that judge will be convinced that that doe-eyed little guttersnipe does not deserve to get away with murder."

"Gabi has taken full responsibility for her actions, which is more than I can say Nick ever did," said Rafe from where he stood with his arm draped around his little sister's shoulders.

"You call this full responsibility?"

"Ten to twenty years in prison isn't enough for you? Think about how long Nick served for taking another man's life."

"A despicable man."

"Exactly," drawled Rafe.

"And Nick was not in his right mind then-"

"-Because he was on drugs?-"

"But Gabi knew exactly what she was doing. Didn't you? I want the whole world to know how much love was in Nick's heart and that people loved him."

"I know that," minced Gabi.

"Then you should understand that we want our justice and I'm going to make sure we get it. We let Nick down when he was alive and I'm not going to let him down now."

That was when Hope handed Julie her phone and pointed Julie in the direction of a quiet hallway.

"Hello?" asked Julie.

"What are you doing?" asked Marie.

"I'm making sure that little Gabi pays for what she did to Nick. I'm surprised that you have a problem with that."

"Have you somehow forgotten that what was allegedly done to Nick is not the same as-"

"Is not the same as something we should discuss on a police officer's cellular phone with a signal that goes God knows where!" Julie interrupted.

"Drop it now or I will make sure you never visit Nick... Nick's grave again. You cannot pull all of us into this any further. Do you think Nick would thank you for punishing Gabi? If he wanted her punished, wouldn't he have told you who shot him?"

"As everyone is more than happy to remind me, Nick had a habit of making bad decisions."

"We're lucky that doesn't run in the family," said Marie dryly. "Listen, Hope called Jessica to get her to talk you out of this. We've all been ignoring Hope's calls for obvious reasons."

"The obvious reason being that you're grieving," said Julie, just in case the call really was being monitored. "You're right, Marie. I'm… grieving too. And sometimes I make bad decisions."

"Come back and visit us," said Marie, easy to forgive. "I think it would do us all good."

And so Julie entered the courtroom to watch Gabi's sentence but said nothing

"Thank you. You don't know how grateful I am," gushed Gabi as she left.

"Don't thank me, Gabi. Nick's parents, his grandmother, they're extraordinarily generous people. For some reason they felt they had to call me and tell me they didn't want to see an extended trial, they didn't want to see Nick's name dragged through the mud again by your unscrupulous attorney."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry. It doesn't cut it. I know Nick was far from perfect but he loved you. So I treated you like family because I thought you loved him. So now, I hope you serve every minute of your twenty years, and in that twenty years perhaps you'll develop a modicum of empathy for what Nick went through."

Julie knew that even if Nick had really been dead, Gabi would have served a fraction of her time. Since Nick was alive, sooner rather than later he would insist on revealing himself to cut Gabi's time further. Gabi would be free before her daughter started preschool.

But Gabi didn't have to know that right now.

_**TBC**_.

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer:** _Some dialog in this chapter was taken directly from the June 10, 2014, and June 12, 2014 episodes of Days of Our Lives. I'm trying to fit Julie's "real" Salem appearances in around what she's doing in my fic as much as possible._

**Author's Note:** _Since everyone who I know for a fact is reading this is an EJ fan, I do want to emphasize that Hope's distrust for DiMeras in general and Julie's dislike for EJ in particular are theirs, not mine. This is not going to be a fic with chapter after chapter of every character hating on EJ (although I admit that I have written fics like that in the past). It just got a little harsh this time because Julie is not always the most even-handed, forgiving Salemite in town. _


	5. The Diagnosis

**Part 5: The Diagnosis**

With Julie in Salem, Nick's room was always quiet. Josh and Jessica and Marie spoke to each other, and to Nick, of course. Sometimes Nick even answered, although more often he seemed to hear and understand but have nothing to say. Belatedly, Marie realized that Julie's badgering had prompted the lion's share of Nick's engagement with all of them. Perhaps Julie had been right to push Nick harder and harder.

Julie was going to gloat about this when Marie admitted it.

As if to make Marie second-guess her second-guessing, Nick chose that moment to sit up and look at her on his own initiative. "Grandma?"

"Hi. How are you doing?"

"What happened to Julie? She hasn't been here."

"She's in Salem for a few days, but she'll be back soon. You know your cousin Julie doesn't like to leave people alone once she's decided that they need pestering." Marie tried to keep her tone light in conspiratorial. It wouldn't do to let Nick know that his silence was devastating and she was desperate to keep him talking.

"What's she doing in Salem?" Nick's eyes opened just a little wider, but Marie didn't entirely like the glint in them. It gave what should have been an innocent question too much of an edge. Nick already knew- or suspected that he knew- why Julie had vanished so abruptly on the heels of an argument about who had shot him. He wasn't asking Marie for information. He was testing Marie and feeling out his situation.

She would have to go with honesty, limited to as small doses as possible. There would be no prevaricating that Julie was just catching up with the rest of the family even though that was undoubtedly true. "Your cousin Hope found out who shot you and Julie wanted to be there at the hearing."

"Whose hearing?" Nick demanded. "Who did Hope arrest?"

"It was Gabi," Marie said quietly. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

"She has a baby. She can't go to prison. Even if she- even though she hates me that much, she can't go to prison." The words tumbled over each other. "She can't go to prison. It's going to ruin her. It's going to ruin her for Ari, and Ari needs her. Is the hearing over yet?"

"Yes," admitted Marie. "I just spoke to Julie. Gabi accepted a plea deal. She'll be going to-"

"_She can't go to prison!"_

"She has to," said Marie as gently as possible. "According to Hope, she understands that. Maybe while she's in prison she can get help learning that there are ways of handling problems that don't involve attempted murder."

Nick shook his head and pushed himself further upright. The part of Marie that had been trained as a nurse was pleased by his ability to move but concerned about how pale he looked. "That's what they said to me. They said I'd get help in prison. No one gets help in prison, Grandma. _No one._ That's not what prison is there for. It's there to punish you and torture you. It's there to make sure you never feel safe or happy again. It's there to make sure you never feel like _yourself_ again. I can't let that happen to someone who has a one year old daughter. I can't let that happen to someone I care about. Someone I _cared_ about."

"It's out of our hands, Nick. Gabi and her attorney have made the decision that they thought was best."

"Who represented her? EJ? He probably wanted her to go to prison so she doesn't incriminate him. Or Sami. Or Kate. Or Will. That's how these things go. The people who are really out to hurt someone will just do it again, and the people who made a mistake, their lives are ruined."

"There have been so many times that I thought my life was ruined," said Marie quietly. "Every single time it turned out that I was just starting a new chapter."

Nick blinked, as if what Marie had said had nothing to do with the matter at hand. "Do you think the judge would reconsider if I spoke on Gabi's behalf?" he asked instead. He spoke ever more quickly. "I could tell him I deserved it. I could tell him that we were having an argument and there was an accident. I could tell him someone else was there and Gabi only thought she shot me."

"Gabi has already told them the truth," Marie pointed out. "And I think Gabi has made it very clear that she does not want you to be involved in her major life decisions any longer."

With that, the line of Nick's jaw hardened.

"I'm not trying to be cruel, Nick," said Marie.

"I get that," said Nick. "I know." He eased himself back down onto his bed. The color returned almost instantly to his face, to Marie's relief. "I'd like to be alone please, Grandma. You don't have to guard me."

"I wasn't trying to. I was just trying to keep you company," lied Marie, because in reality she and Josh and Jessica had worked out a schedule to make sure that at least one of them was there all the time.

"I appreciate that, but, please. I need to think."

"All right," Marie agreed.

"Go home and rest or something. You must have things to do since you've been here with me so much."

"There's nowhere I'd rather be," she told Nick. She kissed his cheek and left the room.

She would have preferred to sit in the hallway and await the moment he screamed in his sleep or interrogated a nurse or tried to sign himself out of the Smith Center. Lurking in the hallway, though, was not permitted because so many of the Smith Center's patients were quite famous. A hall monitor of sorts would escort her to the waiting room or the lobby if she did not escort herself.

As Marie crossed the parking lot, her attention caught hard on a dark-haired young woman. The woman's bag was emblazoned with the Smith Center's subtle insignia; she was clearly an employee returning from lunch. As much time as Marie had spent in the Smith Center for the past several weeks, it was only natural that many of the employees would look familiar to her.

This one, though- this girl, this woman- was different. Marie knew that she had seen her before and she knew that she knew her from elsewhere.

The young woman felt Marie's gaze on her and turned to meet Marie's eyes. Marie sought recognition there, but there was nothing but a polite smile and nod.

"Have you been helping with my grandson?" Marie asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"What kind of treatment is he getting?" the woman asked. It never ceased to amuse Marie that at the Smith Center, no one asked for names. They would identify a patient by any other means.

"He was shot in the chest. He's only just beginning to get up and around."

"Then I won't have worked with him yet. I don't see the more intensive care trauma patients until they've been moved off that hallway." The girl pointed toward the wing where Nick was staying.

"All right," nodded Marie. "I'm sorry to interrupt you. You looked familiar to me, and I couldn't place you."

"I just have one of those faces," said the girl. It could not have been less true. She was beautiful. There was nothing average about her. "Have a good day."

"You too," Marie called as she got into her car and headed for the mall. She had no intention of going far, or staying gone long. Nick might want to be alone, but that didn't mean it was a good idea.

* * *

Nick forced himself to count to twenty-five once his grandmother had left the room. He tried to remind himself that patience was a virtue and that he had been lucky she had left at all; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone. He hadn't cared until today.

He couldn't let the same things that had happened to him happen to Gabi, not while little Ari was involved.

It wasn't that he wanted Gabi back. He could take a hint.

Okay, he couldn't take a hint, but at least he understood the meaning of bullets in his back and chest.

It was just that he couldn't have Gabi and Ari on his conscience. His conscience was enough of a mess as it was.

When he was sure that Marie was not going to open the door as quickly as she had closed it, he tried again to raise himself to a sitting position. It hurt- it always hurt- but he found that he could. The next steps came easily. Legs over the bed. Standing upright, but with one hand on the wall for balance.

He made it to the door and opened it just a crack to look out. He shuddered at what he saw and closed the door just as quickly. The hallways was guarded. Oh, they probably called it _monitored_, but it all came to the same thing.

The door was out. That left the window.

The room was on the first floor, and the window did open… as long as the opener knew a security code that would keep an alarm from sounding.

Nick smirked to himself. He would crack the code.

Indeed, it took no time at all. Computer security was not what people thought it was.

He fell, hard, when he tried to climb out the window, but he got back up and tried again.

He fell even harder when he got out the window.

He took stock of his surroundings as he lay on the ground and decided to head for the fenced in garden rather than sneaking back into the building. In the days of mobile devices, a smartphone would do him just as much good as the prison-hospital's main office. Surely someone had set one aside while weeding or wandering or daydreaming.

The garden gate swung open easily to reveal row upon row of roses surrounding a fountain on one end and a statue of a naked women on the other. Tucked against the back fence was a dark green shed. Nick made a beeline for it.

The code to open the shed was the same as the code that opened the window, backwards. He laughed. "Why are people stupid?" he wondered aloud.

To his delight, the shed came equipped with its own iPad. A few taps brought him to the _Salem Spectator_'s website. Gabi's picture was on the front page along with his own.

He was just starting to read the article when his strength failed and he passed out.

When he awoke, he was back in his bed and his father was watching him from across the room.

"I admire your ingenuity, Nick," said Josh. "Your ingenuity and your tenacity and your analytical mind. I always have. But I think you'll understand if your mother and grandmother and I take a few steps to keep you from going AWOL again."

Nick wasn't in the military and Nick didn't intend to follow orders, at least not until he'd done everything he could to help Gabi.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Jessica," Marie told her daughter for the fifth time as they sat in an office surrounded by the Smith Center's administrator, a charge nurse, a psychiatrist, and Nick's doctor. "I never should have left him alone. He asked, and I didn't want him to feel like he was completely out of control…"

"It's all right," said Jessica for the fifth time. "Josh is with him now. Nick will stay where he is."

"You will be permitted to stay with him for as long as you like, around the clock," the administrator assured them for the fifth time. "Nonetheless, we'd like to know what we can do to assure you that nothing like this will happen again."

"You're the experts," said Marie. She had grown up watching her father run a hospital, and the process was deeply ingrained in her. She would listen to the proposal before raising any concerns.

The administrator nodded. "The alarm on the window has been adjusted so that it will always sound even if it is opened with the code."

"I have every confidence that my son would be able to disarm the alarm if he really wanted to," said Jessica.

"That's why, with your permission, we would like to put a surveillance camera outside the window. Our cameras are always monitored and we can make it clear that there should be a response from security should that window open."

"Can the camera be angled so that it won't record what happens inside the room while the window is closed?"

"We believe so." Jessica and Marie looked at each other and nodded. The plan was acceptable. "Dr. James would like to discuss the medical implications of this development as well."

"Medical implications?" Jessica asked. They had already been assured that Nick had suffered bruises but no real setbacks.

"Nick's mental state is not what we thought it was. He was desperate enough to leave the premises that he was willing to throw himself out a window wearing nothing but a hospital gown and keep moving until he fainted from the pain."

"I'm not positive that he was trying to leave the premises," said Marie. "He may have been looking for information and that's all. I had just told him that his former wife had been sentenced to prison for shooting him. Evidently he wasn't satisfied with my assurances that there was nothing he could do to help her."

"He hadn't previously expressed any desire to help her?"

"He hadn't previously admitted to remembering that she was the one who shot him. He thought that she hadn't been caught," Marie clarified.

"He's been very quiet," Jessica added. "Very sad. Depressed, which I think makes perfect sense under the circumstances. He hadn't shown much initiative to do anything, let alone crack a code, get himself out of bed on his own, and jump out a window."

"I was relieved when he started talking to me this afternoon," Marie agreed. "All of a sudden he was more like himself. Asking questions, coming up with plans, very high energy."

Dr. James, the psychiatrist, caught the eyes of both the other doctor and the nurse. Then he turned his attention to Marie and Jessica. "Has Nick ever been evaluated for bipolar disorder?"

Marie's stomach dropped as Dr. James' words washed over her. She was a nurse herself; she'd spent all of her life around medicine; and she was painfully, personally aware of the history of mental illness in their family. She _was_ the history of mental illness in their family.

She should have noticed.

She saw her own guilt and shame reflected in her daughter's face, and she took Jessica's hand.

"No objections to starting him on lithium, then?" Dr. James asked the room at large.

Jessica shook her head. "I can't believe we didn't consider that before."

"You both have medical backgrounds, correct?" Marie and Jessica nodded. "So you know that this is a condition that almost always takes years to diagnose. In Nick's case, the first real signs of trouble resulted in him going to prison where there were all kinds of other traumas to mask the underlying problem. That's if he even is bipolar."

"He is," said Jessica numbly. "I'm sure of it. He matches the profile exactly. He was twenty five years old when he went to prison, and that's a magic age for bipolar disorder."

"There is no magic age," said Dr. James gently.

"That's a very common age for symptoms to manifest."

"Yes, it is," Dr. James admitted. "And as I said, it is also very common for someone with bipolar disorder to end up in the hospital years after symptoms arise before there is a diagnosis. I remind you again that at this point I'm making a guess, not a diagnosis."

"Thank you, Dr. James," said Jessica, and Marie could tell that Jessica was still convinced that there could be no other solution.

Marie was inclined to agree with her.

* * *

Hope put off calling Chelsea with a final update until the afternoon that Ciara presented her with a St. Luke's Academy form to be signed.

"Just sign at the bottom," Ciara instructed.

"I'd prefer to read it first, thank you," said Hope as she fumbled for her glasses.

Ciara heaved a long-suffering sigh, as if no child had ever been saddled with a more unreasonable mother.

It soon became clear why Ciara would have preferred that Hope rubber stamp the report. "It says here that you failed last week's art project," said Hope, as if Ciara did not know.

"That happened in the past and there's nothing we can do about it now," said Ciara sagely.

"As a matter of fact, it says right here that because you turned in all of your other assignments on time, you can have an extension to submit this one by tomorrow." Ciara made a face. "What was the assignment?"

"_Draw a picture of your family_." Disdain dripped from Ciara's every word. "I'm not five years old. Kids my age are pretty much over that, except Johnny, and I really think there's something wrong with him."

"What have I told you about talking about your cousins like that?" Hope bit back a sigh and decided to pick her battles. "You know what? Never mind. Why didn't you want to draw a picture of your family?"

"I told you. It's a baby assignment."

"So you should have been able to do it in no time flat."

Ciara glared petulantly.

"Did you not want to think about how your dad isn't here?" Hope guessed. She didn't want to put the idea into Ciara's head if it wasn't the case, but she was fairly sure that she was right. She noticed Bo's absence every minute of every day. She'd have been a fool to think that Ciara felt any differently.

"Every time I started to draw him it made me mad because he's not here anymore."

"I understand that." She understood it all too well. Ciara must have sensed as much, because all of a sudden her aggression fell away and she sat next to Hope at the kitchen table. "Your dad is still your dad and he still loves you whether he's here or not. You know that, right?"

"I know that," said Ciara. "But it's not anybody else's business. I don't want Chase to look at it and say I shouldn't have drawn him because he isn't here." She scowled.

"Chase hasn't been saying things like that, has he? Not since the last time his father made him apologize to you in the Pub?"

"No. He's okay, mostly," conceded Ciara.

"It must be hard for Chase, too," Hope mused. "Deciding whether or not to draw his mom."

"He didn't have to decide that," said Ciara smartly. "His dad decided for him. His dad doesn't even like him to mention his mom."

"Well, you don't have that problem. You can draw you and me because it's just the two of us in this house right now, or you can draw the whole Horton-Brady family tree and make your teacher's head explode when she tries to figure it out. All you need to do is draw something."

"Can I draw cousin Nick with blood gushing out of him like Allie said?" asked Ciara innocently.

Hope drew in her breath sharply and Ciara laughed. "Just kidding."

"Thank God," Hope muttered. "If you draw Nick, you draw him like you remember him. He's still part of your family while he's still in your heart."

"I'm not doing the whole Horton-Brady tree. That would take forever and I didn't want to do this in the first place. I just want to be normal. Mom, Dad, brother, sister, and me."

"Then draw that," said Hope quickly. "Draw you and me and your dad and your brother Shawn and your sister Chelsea."

"I'll go get my colored pencils and the photo album."

Hope prayed as hard as she could that Ciara only needed the photo album to get a good look at her much older brother and sister, and not because she was starting to forget Bo.

Hope supervised as Ciara worked, just in case Ciara changed her mind about throwing in blood or bullets. Ciara, though, quickly sketched a perfectly standard family portrait. Hope did sense a certain sarcasm in the rainbow and butterflies Ciara drew across the top of the picture.

Ciara left the photo album open to a large photograph that had been one of Bo's favorites. In it, Ciara was about four years old and perched on Chelsea's lap. It had been taken not long before Chelsea had left Salem for good. Ciara was beaming radiantly; Hope recalled that Chelsea had been teasing that Ciara was much too big to be Chelsea's baby sister.

Life had been much simpler then. Ciara had been much simpler then. She had been such a happy little girl who never questioned her status as one who was universally adored. At that moment, forever frozen in time, Chelsea had been the one doing the adoring.

With a final glance at Ciara, Hope grabbed her phone and slipped into the living room.

"Hi, Hope," answered Chelsea on the third ring. "Is everything okay?"

That question that Bo had doomed his children to ask first, always.

"No change," Hope confirmed. "No change, but I promised to keep you updated. Gabi Hernandez pled guilty like we expected and the judge gave her twenty years. You probably already read that in the _Spectator_ online."

"I did," said Chelsea. "But thank you for calling. Sometimes the papers get it wrong or whatever."

"That's true." Hope paused; Chelsea didn't say anything. "How are you doing?"

"Okay," said Chelsea. The standard lie of people who were not okay. Hope used it enough herself.

"Anything exciting happen today?" Hope tried.

"I saw a woman in a parking lot who said that she knew me from somewhere. I told her we didn't know each other, except she did look familiar. I just don't know from where," Chelsea attempted gamely.

"Maybe you'll see her again and ask if she's ever been to Salem."

"Maybe."

The silence between them stretched again until Hope broke it. "Your sister is just putting the finishing touches on a family portrait for her art class at school. She got out a photo album so she could get you just right. Want me to take a picture and text you?"

"Yeah!"

Hope walked back into the kitchen and took the photo then and there.

"Who are you sending that to?" Ciara demanded.

"Your sister Chelsea."

Ciara gestured that Hope should give her the phone; Hope obliged, surreptitiously pushing the speakerphone button as she did.

"Hi Chelsea," said Ciara. "Did they make you draw stupid family portraits when you were in school, too?"

"I'm afraid they did," said Chelsea, her voice tinny and disembodied on the speaker.

"How did you decide who to draw?"

"It was pretty easy when I was your age. I had my adoptive parents- the Bensons- and me. My family didn't get complicated until I got older."

"My family's complicated now."

"You always were precocious."

"No. This hot mess _made_ me precocious. Maybe I should have drawn Cousin Nick walking into the Horton Town Square bleeding to death and pumped full of bullets after all." She'd gotten a reaction from Hope, it seemed, and had decided that it was worth trying the same material on Chelsea.

There was a rattle on the other side of the connection. Hope would have bet all her seniority at the police department that Chelsea had dropped her phone.

"Ciara!" she whispered. "We can talk about Nick, you and me, but you need to stop saying that to other people who loved him."

"He's not Chelsea's cousin," Ciara protested.

"But she loved him." Hope shifted gears. "Chelsea? Honey? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, sorry," said Chelsea detachedly. "I'm such a klutz, I tripped and dropped my phone."

"I'm sorry," said Ciara, the apology unprompted and sincere. "I didn't know you loved him."

"Thank you, Ciara. That's a wonderful picture you drew." And with that, there was a standard exchange of pleasantries and an end to the conversation.

* * *

Chelsea hadn't been planning to go out that night. She had reached the point in her life that she had sworn she would never reach- the point where she would just as soon go to bed early and be ready for work the next morning. After talking to Hope and Ciara, though, she knew that she wouldn't sleep.

She found her clingiest dress, her highest heels, and her most expensive perfume. She would stay at a club until closing, come home to change for work, and go to an early breakfast at her favorite restaurant before driving to the Smith Center.

No images of Nick bleeding to death allowed.

_**TBC**_


	6. Open Door

**Part 6: Open Door**

Josh was standing vigil when it was time for Nick's morning checkup. There was something Josh liked about the way hospitals ran early in the morning when there was a schedule to be kept and a thousand things to be done. It felt familiar to his military mind.

"What is that?" Nick asked, fixing the nurse with a steely gaze. He pointed at the collection of pills he had been directed to swallow—antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and one brand new pill. "That one's different."

The nurse blanched under the implied accusation. Nick had been so ill, and then so resigned, since he had come to the Smith Center, that most of the staff had never heard him speak without being spoken to. They certainly weren't used to a raised voice, a question, and eye contact from him.

"It's lithium," the nurse told him. "Dr. James thought it would be a good idea to start you on it."

In the corner of the room, Josh watched the wheels turn in his son's head. Nick read everything and remembered everything. If he had even once picked up a medical journal or a science book that discussed lithium even in passing…

"That's used to treat bipolar disorder," said Nick with a horrible hollow echo replacing the suspicion in his voice.

"Yes, it is," said the nurse, but Josh could see that Nick didn't need confirmation. "We'll set it aside if you want to discuss things further with the doctors before you start on it."

"Discuss things further? That would be difficult considering that no one discussed things with me in the first place."

Josh stepped forward and Nick shot him a preemptive glare. "Your mother and grandmother and I authorized it."

"You had me declared mentally incompetent?"

"No, we made decisions that you were not able to make while you were unresponsive. This is the most I've heard your voice since you've been here, Nicky."

"So you decided that it wasn't worth telling me what you were going to do to me."

"You heard the woman. Don't take it if you aren't ready." Josh said, even though a part of him wanted to order Nick to take the medicine and like it, and eat his vegetables while he was at it. (A false comparison, though; Nick had never protested eating his vegetables. He hadn't protested much of anything. Nick had been an easy kid to raise.)

"But you think I should take it?"

"I think it's worth a try to see if it helps you," said Josh, pleased with his own tact. "That's the scientific method, isn't it? We run the experiment and look at the evidence. See if Dr. James' theory works."

Without another word, Nick swallowed all five pills in one gulp and chased them with the glass of water the nurse handed him.

Josh didn't get another word out of Nick for the rest of the morning.

* * *

Hope was surprised, but pleased, when Aiden asked her to join him for midmorning coffee to discuss the Saint Luke's Academy Gala. So far the plans for the Gala had been an unmitigated disaster, and yet she had begun to look forward to meeting Aiden to discuss plans of attack.

She had gotten to the point that she enjoyed Aiden's company. It was bizarre.

It was also not something she planned to share with Ciara any time soon, and she assumed that Aiden felt the same way about Chase. Their children might not be in the habit of taunting and physically attacking one another any longer, but that didn't mean that they were up for playdates while their parents shared a cup of coffee.

(It was always coffee with Aiden, always, she was finding. The domino enthusiasts who refused to negotiate on the matter of the ballroom they needed for the Gala, Aiden seemed to view as an enjoyable challenge. The threat of a few hours without coffee he viewed as impossible to overcome.)

"Hey," said Aiden as he pulled out the chair opposite Hope in the Pub. "I'm glad we could manage another meeting today."

"Yeah." Hope took in their pile of thick binders. "Everything we need for the Gala and the opening ceremony of the Olympics." She flipped open a binder only to see Jennifer's name along with Eve Donovan's. She looked a question at Aiden, who pulled the document away and replaced it with one relevant to the task at hand.

"I'm doing some research for your cousin's case," said Aiden mildly. "I like her. I can see why the two of you are so close."

"You know what I just realized?" asked Hope, even though she hadn't just realized it. "You represented JJ, and now Jen. You know all this personal stuff about my family, and I don't know anything about yours." Aiden laughed, but didn't answer. "Why is that, huh, Aiden?" She cupped her chin in her hand and smiled at him.

"This is a list of local merchants we hit up for the silent auction," said Aiden as if she hadn't spoken. "If you could just look that over."

Hope wasn't ready to let it drop. "What a surprise. I asked you about your family and you talk about something else, anything else."

"I just don't like being interrogated."

"Believe me," said Hope. "You'd know if you were being interrogated. I was just asking a question. Friends do do that sometimes, you know?"

"Mmm hmm."

As usual, Hope mentally filed away Aiden's non-response before conceding to him for the moment. "All right, I guess we'd better get back to work here. Do we have any other tasks we need to do, comrade?"

"You can check this over." Aiden passed yet another sheet of paper across the table. Hope was certain they had killed an entire forest's worth of trees preparing for this Gala.

She glanced at it in disbelief. "This is…"

"This is the checklist we agreed to when we first started working together, when we agreed to call it the impossible dream. Look at everything we've done since we started working as a team. We may not have righted every wrong, but we put together a hell of a gala."

"It's almost done." Hope knew what they had achieved, of course, but she had not yet seen in written out in black and white adorned with firm blue check marks in their own handwriting. "It seemed impossible."

"Against almost impossible odds, the duo persevered," Aiden narrated playfully. "They booked the venue, they hired the caterer-"

"And they ordered the helium balloons in the Saint Luke's school colors."

"In a word, they triumphed. If there ever was a moment that called for a high five, this was it."

He held up his hand; Hope slapped him five, adding a flourish and a cheer. In a world that was messy and chaotic, the satisfaction of finishing something made her almost lightheaded with giddiness.

She refused to entertain the possibility that the lightheadedness had any connection to the feeling of Aiden's skin against her own.

* * *

Julie, freshly returned from Salem, convinced Josh and Jessica to make themselves scarce for the afternoon. Any child, no matter his age, had a desire to please his parents, and that was certainly true of Nick; why else had he devoted most of his adult life to hiding his troubles from them? He might be more inclined to talk to Julie, who was well aware of what had gone on in Salem. Julie even agreed to let Marie supervise her.

Julie flinched when she saw the expression on Nick's face, but she asked him brightly whether he had missed her, and didn't she get a welcome back?

"Well, I'm glad you're back, Julie," said Marie when Nick was silent. "And I think that new dress looks lovely on you."

"Your grandmother was always the kind of person who noticed things like that," Julie told Nick with a smile. "You wouldn't think that you could find a dress worth buying at a shopping mall in an airport terminal while you miss your connecting flight and you have to wait for the next one, but..." She trailed off with a shrug. "Such is life. You find things where you wouldn't expect them."

"I told Nick that the other day," Marie said kindly. "I told him that so many times I thought my life was over, when it was really just changing."

Julie reached out to caress Nick's hair, but he so rigidly, fixedly tensed and avoided her gaze that she settled for running her hand along the top of his pillow. "Maybe it's time that you and I had that conversation I wanted to have the night you were shot. You can't get out of it forever."

"What conversation was that?" asked Marie, though Julie was quite sure Marie knew and was merely playing good cop.

"I was going to tell Nick all kinds of dirty family history about the failings of his storied ancestors," said Julie with a flourish. "It'll be better with you here. You'll keep me honest. More or less."

Marie smiled and gestured that Julie should begin. Julie did.

"I started with shoplifting. I didn't need a damn thing. My father would have bought me anything I asked for, and I didn't want the things I stole. That used to be my excuse when store security questioned me. 'Why would I steal that fur? I have nicer furs at home.'"

"How did that excuse work out for you?" teased Marie, since Nick wasn't going to ask.

"No one believed me, but it worked out fine because what I really wanted was attention and I didn't know how to ask. My father was at work all the time, my mother was busy with her social schedule, and everyone else was falling all over themselves to say how smart and popular and talented my brother was. If it hadn't been for my grandparents finally letting me move in with them I don't know what I would have done next."

"It would have been something worse than what you did do next?" asked Marie dryly.

Julie smiled and took Marie's hand. "If it hadn't been for my grandparents and my Aunt Marie. She was closer to my age than she was to my mother's, her sister's, you know that, right?"

"It used to bother Addie that we were so close," Marie remembered. "She felt like that was a criticism of her, so she would find every way she could to criticize me. I was engaged to a man named Tony Merritt at the time. Tony was a teacher and Addie would go on and on about how I should set my sights higher."

"She was jealous," put in Julie. "She loved my father, in a way, but that wasn't exactly her primary focus. His father, my grandfather Olson, was the richest man in Salem. Times were changing very quickly back then, back in the 60s. Marie deciding to get an advanced degree in biochemistry and marry a man just because she liked him— those weren't doors that were as wide open to her older sister."

"Addie wouldn't have wanted those things anyway. She thought she was proven right when Tony broke off our engagement the day before the wedding."

Julie and Marie noticed, together, the hint of interest in Nick's eyes. They were coming to a part of the family story he hadn't heard.

Marie nodded at Julie to confirm that this was a story she wanted to tell, and Julie squeezed her hand. "I was crushed when Tony left me. I wanted to die. I knew how many sleeping pills it would take, and I took them."

Nick gasped, and Marie grabbed his hand with her free one. "I bet you know the statistics," Marie continued. "Only a tiny percentage of suicide attempts by overdose succeed, even when you've been around medicine all your life and you know exactly what's supposed to work. So Tony's father, Craig, he felt guilty for what Tony had done. He wanted to take care of me and he married me himself."

A skeptical look crossed over Nick's face and it made Julie laugh, though not unkindly. "If you could have met the man, you wouldn't feel like that. I was only a teenager and I had a crush on Craig. There was one time I started going through Marie and Tony's wedding gifts when Marie wasn't home and I broke one. Craig helped me clean it up. I told him I would never get married because I wanted to travel the world and have adventures. I didn't want to be trapped and miserable like my parents. There hasn't been a day since that I haven't remembered what he said. He told me that people are different, and marriages are different, and my marriage might be the romance of the decade. So a few months later of course I was planning to elope. I'd met a boy named David Martin. The first time I saw him he was pumping gas at a station outside Salem."

"And that was attraction number one," said Marie. "If Addie couldn't stand that Tony was a teacher, how was she going to do with David being a mechanic?"

"It was not attraction number one," Julie said loftily. "Attraction number one was the smile. He had the cockiest smile, but his face was so intelligent and sensitive. He was a musician, a photographer. He was—"

"Nick doesn't care," Marie interrupted.

"He was forbidden fruit, I won't lie about that," said Julie easily. "Just going out for pizza with him in his hometown made me feel like I was taking my life in my hands."

"That's foreshadowing," said Marie. "It turns out that she was. The water supply up in Woodridge was contaminated. People died. The chills, the fever— I thought we were going to lose Julie too."

"I survived thanks to Grandpa and Marie. She took such good care of me."

"The hard part was fielding all of David's phone calls wanting to know if she was all right. He really did love her."

"And I loved him. So as I was saying, we were going to elope. Then Grandpa gave me one of his lectures, and I hesitated, David spent the night with my friend Susan. They didn't even like each other." A scowl twisted Julie's features fifty years after the fact. "She got pregnant, and that meant that they got married. Grandpa demanded that I be the maid of honor so I could get it through my head that I could never have David again. Susan wanted me there because she couldn't stand the idea of marrying David and she wanted the moral support. The irony, right? Grandpa practically ordered her to marry him."

"That seems cruel," said Nick quietly. He had long since stopped pretending that he wasn't listening.

"I certainly thought so. I still think so," said Julie just as quietly. "Tom Horton was a good man and a great man. He was also a product of his time, and he was not a perfect human being. None of us are. That's actually going to be the moral of this story, if you hadn't figured it out already."

"I guess there are still people who thought Gabi and Will should have had to get married because of Ari."

"Some of them malicious and some of them stupid, but all of them wrong. Now, your great-grandfather was neither malicious nor stupid, but he was wrong. He packed Susan and David off and hoped that they would find a way to live with each other and the baby."

"Meanwhile," said Marie. "I was pregnant too, and much happier about it than Susan was."

Concern flickered across Nick's face, and Julie could almost see him double-checking the family tree in his mind. If Marie's baby had lived, it would have been Nick's aunt or uncle. Nick knew, then, without being told, that this development would not end happily for Marie.

"He or she died?" asked Nick. Marie nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"It broke my heart all over again, worse than when Tony left. I had pinned all my hopes on that child. I thought that that child, that ready-made family, would be a magic bridge to normalcy that would make all of the bad feelings from my past vanish into the air."

Nick's eyes widened, and Marie squeezed his hand, which she still held. "There isn't much new under the sun, I'm afraid. If this baby had lived, he or she couldn't have put my life back together any more than Ari could have fixed yours if Will had let you raise her. When I lost that baby, though… I had hallucinations. I heard babies crying behind locked doors, babies crying everywhere." Marie swallowed hard at the memory.

"And to top it off, who should show his face in Salem again but Tony Merritt," scowled Julie. "Now this time, my mother wasn't the only one who had a problem with him, believe you me."

"Did he say why he'd left?" asked Nick.

"Oh yes," said Julie with a roll of her eyes. "He was being noble."

"He was," defended Marie.

"He was sick. It was cancer, and if you think that's a scary word now it was an even scarier word in 1965. He wanted to spare Marie by not telling her. You've heard how well she was spared."

"There wasn't one member of the family who hesitated to tell Tony that. His own father, though, of course Craig was sympathetic. Craig divorced me because he didn't want to stand in the way of Tony and me."

"Then Tony left town with his tail between his legs like the dog he was."

"He didn't exactly feel welcome."

"We didn't say he couldn't fight for you, but if he wasn't going to fight for you he had no business being with you, Marie, and that's the truth."

"So that left me jilted, divorced, without my baby, and with a suicide attempt and a history of depression-induced hallucinations. I was 24 years old," concluded Marie.

"Back to Susan's son," Julie picked up. "David and I never stopped seeing each other, but he did grow to care for Susan and the baby."

"He was a married man, though," said Nick with an annoyance that surprised Julie.

"I wasn't the first woman who didn't let that stop me and I won't be the last. I am not claiming to be perfect, Nick. I was jealous of Susan, and more than that I was jealous of the baby. That poor baby. David took him to the park to play on the swings, and David didn't understand that the baby was too small for the harness to keep him safe. The baby slipped out of the swing and he died. Susan went home to get clothes to bury her son, and when she came face to face with David, she shot him. She killed him. She killed the man who I believed with every fiber of my being would always be the only love of my life. Who do you suppose decided to defend her on murder charges?"

"Not Uncle Mickey?"

"Oh, yes, Uncle Mickey. Now I was the star witness for the prosecution, not that they really needed one. Susan had confessed. Still, I was delighted to do everything I could to send my former best friend to prison for the rest of her life. Uncle Mickey needed to discredit me, and what better way to do that than to reveal to the whole world that I was pregnant with David's baby? I know you're accustomed to thinking that I have no sense of shame, and usually you'd be right. But that kind of public humiliation, on the heels of losing David… I left town, and I gave my baby up for adoption. I didn't want to. Your grandfather was so convinced that it was the right thing."

"It wasn't?"

"It wasn't. Scott and Janet Banning were a beautiful couple, or so everyone said. Janet was dying, and who did they have taking care of little Bradley but Susan? Susan had all these ideas about the fragility of life, and she wanted to make amends to me for taking David's life. So I pretended that I believed in forgiveness and I went to see her, although really all I wanted to do was find out whether her heart condition was going to kill her any time soon. When I looked at Bradley all I could see was the baby I'd given up against my own instincts. Turns out I was right. Bradley was mine. Scott allowed me to rename him David after his biological father."

"Scott also allowed her to come in between him and Susan."

"Susan killed David's natural father. I was hardly being unreasonable, and the courts didn't think so either or they wouldn't have given me custody and barred Scott from seeing him if Susan was around. If Scott wanted his son, I was part of the package. Susan took David from me, so I took Scott from her. It didn't matter one bit that I didn't want Scott much more than I wanted those furs I used to steal from the department store."

"You were fond of Scott," said Marie.

"I was," Julie admitted. She softened. "It wasn't a marriage devoid of love, not at all. It was more a decision we made with our heads than with our hearts. The most important thing was getting my son back."

"It was around this same time that I gave your mother up for adoption as well," said Marie. "Women from good families simply did not raise their babies as single mothers at this point in time."

"Especially not if those women were nuns when they got pregnant," chimed in Julie. "You already know that part, right, Nick? Uncle Tommy was presumed dead, Marie had no way of remembering her brother properly because she was so much younger, and when he came back to town calling himself Mark-"

"I know, I know." Nick held up his hand to stop Julie.

"Running off and joining a convent really seemed like the only solution," said Marie.

"I get that," said Nick.

"Anyway, David and Jessica had a lot to bond over when they were older," Julie concluded.

"When did you meet Doug?"

"That happens next. Yes, I ignored my own marriage vows this time, and yes, you obviously know that my mother decided to mark the occasion of my father's death by marrying my fiance when we had an argument over my son. I lied, Nick. I cheated, I stole, I manipulated, I plotted revenge. Nothing you've done these past few years is likely to shock me."

"Sweetheart, by the time I was your age I had been so depressed that I had attempted suicide. I'd spent months clapping my hands over my ears screaming to drown out hallucinations. I'd tried to hide from life by joining a convent. If this diagnosis of bipolar disorder turns out to be the right one, I'm not likely to be convinced that this is the end of your life and you can never recover."

All of a sudden, Nick's face hardened again and he dropped Marie's hand. "So what you're saying is that I have the worst of both of you? Grandma's mental instability and Julie's total lack of morals."

Julie refused to be shocked. "I do think you have Marie's brains. That brilliant scientific mind that went straight from Tom to Marie to Jessica to you. I think you have Marie's compassion and sensitivity. Marie was always such a good listener. When I was a teenager, sometimes I felt like no one but Marie ever listened to me. She would hear me when I talked about David, and school, and how I just couldn't stand the idea of moving to Europe with my parents. You're like that, too. When you finished college and went to Salem to stay with Maggie, she used to call me and marvel at what a great listener you were whether it was to her or Mickey or Abby or one of your friends."

Marie picked up the thread easily. "I think you have Julie's ingenuity and her tenacity. Those are Josh's favorite words when he's describing you, always have been. When you want something, you stick it out. You find a way. You don't run and hide in a convent. You break out of a maximum security hospital when you can barely walk. Not that I condone that particular plan of yours, but it was impressive all the same."

"Is that really so bad? Being you?" asked Julie.

"Even if you've got something in common with a few silly old ladies?" completed Marie.

"What have I told you about that word, old?" asked Julie.

"I wasn't supposed to be like either of you," said Nick, surprising them. "I was supposed to be like my dad. I look like him, I talk like him. I was never going to join the military, and he never pushed me to, but he did always tell me…" Nick trailed off.

"What did Joshua tell you?" Julie prompted.

"That I should protect my mother. That she was fragile, that I should be strong."

"You are strong," said Julie.

"No one's strong all the time," said Marie. "You know the ornaments that the Hortons hang on the tree at Christmas?" Nick shrugged. "My mother always said that one of the things she liked was the way every ornament was alike, but different. Every ornament was fragile at the same time as it was strong. She thought it was a beautiful representation of life and family."

Nick shrugged again.

"Is that enough for today, maybe?" asked Marie.

Nick nodded.

"We'll give you some time to yourself, but do not try that stunt with the window again. They've made some improvements in security but I'd rather you didn't take that as a challenge."

"We can have part two tomorrow," Julie suggested. "If you think that I've never felt like I wasn't strong enough, I can disabuse you of that notion very quickly."

They kissed Nick goodbye and left him to his thoughts.

* * *

Nick didn't like his thoughts very much.

Nick much preferred, just as a matter of principle, trying to outsmart the new alarm someone had placed on his window.

* * *

Chelsea had been working at the Smith Center for over a year, but she could count on one hand the number of times that she had been in the intensive care wing. That afternoon, though, she was asked to help out with a quick evaluation before she went home at the end of the day.

The evaluation went smoothly and it was just a few minutes before five when she strolled through the hall on her way to the parking lot.

At first she ignored an alarm that wailed in one of the rooms she passed, but then a sign caught her eye; the patient was a flight risk and all staff were asked to pitch in to keep him safe.

She threw open the door without knocking; sure enough, a tall man was trying to manipulate the computerized window lock. Sensing her entrance, he turned to look at her.

"Oh my God," breathed Chelsea. "_Nick_."

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer**: _Hope and Aiden's dialog is taken almost verbatim from the July 3, 2014 episode of Days of Our Lives. No excuse but that I thought much of the early writing for those two was so good that there was no need to improve on it._

_As for the 1960s Days history recited by Marie and Julie, well, that was before I was born and before YouTube was born. I did my best to get it right, but you have my apologies for any mistakes. Let's just blame those on Marie and Julie having imperfect memories, shall we?_


	7. A Reunion

**Part 7: A Reunion**

"_Nick_," breathed Chelsea before she could swallow back the word and remind herself that Nick was dead and this crazed patient could hear her. She had imagined seeing Nick before, after all; it was part of the grieving process. She'd felt that way when her adoptive parents, the Bensons, had died. It had been even worse with Zack; every child's shout for a year had made her heart leap with the hope that it was him.

Within a fraction of a second she sought the words to apologize.

Within that same fraction of a second, she saw his eyes light with annoyance, confusion, and, most of all, recognition.

"Nick," she repeated, and her voice sounded steadier than she felt. It was the solidness of her own voice that kept her from launching herself across the room to hug him as hard as she could. "Nick, you'd really better leave that lock alone. I can shut the alarm off, but not until you get back on your bed. Otherwise it'll summon fifty people to make sure you do."

He obeyed sullenly, sulkily, and silently.

But he obeyed.

Chelsea shut off the alarm and confirmed over the intercom that everything was just fine without quite knowing how she managed it. She steeled herself to see a stranger when she turned around to face the patient again.

It was still Nick.

This time she let herself get closer, close enough to perch on the edge of his bed. He tensed without moving.

She extended her hand, slow and shaky, and trailed one finger down his cheek to the line of his jaw. The planes and angles of his face had sharpened since she'd seen him last. He made no effort to push her away, but neither did he respond to her touch.

When she squeezed his shoulder to confirm that it was warm and solid, though, that was too much. Gently but firmly, he removed her hand from his body and placed it in her own lap. She recoiled at the loss of contact, but she had the most important thing: confirmation that he was alive.

"You're supposed to be dead," she told him. The thought was too big to do anything but escape her lips.

"That's a great bedside manner you've got, Chelsea. They teach you that in physical therapy school? Or did you not bother with class because you figured that at the end of the semester you could sleep with your professor and get an A?" Nick's voice was harsh and brittle- and _mean_.

Chelsea wasn't sure she ever remembered Nick being _mean_.

"I never needed anyone's help to pass my classes, not even yours. And I certainly never slept with any man for any reason other than I loved him," she said."That wasn't necessary and I didn't deserve that."

"But I deserve to be told I should be dead? That's prison hospital policy?"

"First of all, this isn't a prison," she said, as if that were somehow the most important assumption to correct. "Someone pulled a lot of strings and paid a lot of money to get you in here, and it was to protect you, not to punish you."

His face crumbled and his eyes shone with a hint of tears that was quickly blinked back. "I know. I'm sorry. It's been a really hard day."

Chelsea nodded. "I can imagine," she told were a lot of hard days in a place like this.

He looked her hard in the eyes, and the unfamiliar power she saw there sent a disconcerting rush down her spine. "I'm sorry, Chelsea. You didn't deserve that. I know how smart you are and I know you got your degree because you earned it. And since you say you've only been with men you love, I believe you, even though it's none of my business who you choose to be with or why."

She couldn't help but smile. This felt familiar. One of the many things Nick Fallon had always been really good at was apologies. He gave them when he was wrong and he demanded them when he deserved them. It had been a unique experience for Chelsea back when the world seemed determined to assume the worst of her and she had had a nasty habit of living down to the world's assumptions.

"Thank you," she said. "No problem. I know that you're in a rough place and being surprised with me didn't help."

Nick shrugged.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"What do they do to employees who help the prisoners around here?" he asked darkly.

"Still not a prison," she reminded him. "Why do you want to get out of here so bad?"

"They put Gabi- you're right, this isn't a prison and I know better than to call it that. Where they put Gabi is a real prison. They put her there for shooting me and I have to tell them that it was a mistake."

Chelsea felt her eyes widen. It hadn't even occurred to her that if Nick was alive, the woman who had been arrested for his murder had been wrongfully convicted. Part of her heart went out to the young woman she had never met; Chelsea knew well what it was like to be punished for something she hadn't done. The rest of her heart meanly figured that Gabi deserved it, anyway.

She glanced at the angry scars peeking out from under Nick's hospital gown.

"Gabi did shoot you, didn't she?" Chelsea asked cautiously.

"I drove her to it. She had no other choice."

Chelsea shook her head adamantly. "Actually, she very much had a choice. That choice was called _not shooting you_. If you were that much of a threat to her, she should have called her brother the cop. What did you do, anyway?"

Nick shrugged.

"Nick," Chelsea prompted.

"Hardly anything after the first time they tried to kill me."

"Who's they?" she demanded.

"Who do think?" Nick glared as if she had been personally responsible. "They send you in to help finish me off?"

She slipped off the bed, clenching her fists and angrier than ever. All shock and relief were gone, leaving only fury. "When Hope told me you died, I felt like part of me died. You were my first love. You helped me turn my life around at a time when I didn't think that that was possible. There isn't anyone on this planet who had more to do with making me the person that I am than you did. I know we haven't seen each other. I know we haven't talked. But just because I didn't see you, that doesn't mean I didn't think of you. The idea of you lying in that park, bleeding to death, and then dragging yourself into the town square- seriously, Nick, you're better off accusing me of sleeping around than you are accusing me of being okay with _that_!"

Chelsea threw open the door- she might be a grown up professional woman now, but she still appreciated a good dramatic exit- only to slam into Julie Williams. Beside Julie was the woman Chelsea had seen in the parking lot a few days before.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked, helping to separate Julie and Chelsea. "We heard yelling. Wait, I saw you the other day. You said that you didn't know my grandson."

"I didn't know your grandson was Nick Fallon," said Chelsea coolly. "Hello, Mrs. Williams."

"Julie, you know her?" Nick's grandmother asked in disbelief.

Chelsea smirked and held out her hand to shake. "Chelsea Benson Brady. Nick's cousin Hope is my stepmother."

"Marie Horton," Nick's grandmother said, taking Chelsea's hand and shaking it so warmly that Chelsea almost considered hearing them out before screaming at them for faking Nick's death. There was something sensitive and compassionate about Marie that reminded Chelsea of Nick at his best.

"Marie," said Julie with an edge to her voice that pissed Chelsea off, "why don't you go and sit with Nick? I think Chelsea and I have some catching up to do. It's been so long since we've seen each other."

"Are you going to send me off to prison for a crime that never happened like you did Nick's other ex-girlfriend?" asked Chelsea innocently. If anyone was going to be edgy and irritated about this turn of events, it was going to be Chelsea.

Instead of taking the bait, Julie eyed Chelsea appraisingly. "I think you may feel differently when you've heard the whole story."

Chelsea nodded and let Julie lead her to one of the waiting rooms.

"How long have you been working here?" asked Julie when they were alone.

Chelsea shook her head. "No. No, we are not doing small talk and the one asking questions is going to be me."

Julie spread her arms wide. "Ask away."

"Why did you fake Nick's death?" She hated the way her voice cracked and shook.

"Because," said Julie quietly, "I truly believe that if I hadn't he would be dead for real by now. He collapsed into my arms after his guttersnipe of an ex-wife shot him. I looked around the town square- the town square named after Nick's great-grandparents- and not one person other than me cared. No, I misspoke, there was one person, and she was nine years old. Can't forget little Allie. If it hadn't been Gabi it would have been someone else. When Hope investigated the shooting, she found any number of motives and potential weapons. Nick was out of control. He's not the person you knew when you and he were an item years ago."

"I gathered that."

"He needs time and space to get his head together. He needs to heal. He needs to be safe. He's not going to get that if everyone in Salem is lining up to try to finish him off."

"He accused me of working with them," Chelsea admitted. "He said that they sent me. Why would he say that?"

"Who's they?"

"I asked. He didn't answer."

"He hasn't said much. He was so eager to protect that girl."

"Gabi."

"Gabi."

"So Gabi is one of them. I've never even met her. Why would she send me?"

"Abigail is very close to Gabi, and you used to be very close to Abigail."

"You think Abby is involved in this?" Chelsea shook her head. "No. Abby loved Nick. Completely. I always used to tease them about how second cousins is legal almost everywhere. And I don't know why I said that out loud."

"You've had a very great shock," said Julie, more calmly than Chelsea would have expected. "And to answer your question, no, I don't think Abigail had anything to do with this. Can you remember what exactly he told you?"

Chelsea tried to sort through her rage-tinted memories. "I asked what he did to make Gabi so angry. He said that he had hardly done anything after the first time they tried to kill him."

"He disappeared. He disappeared for several months. He would send texts, but there was something off about them. One day Marie texted him an old family joke and his response wasn't the one he's been giving her for twenty years. Abigail was frantic, she did more to look for him than anyone. No, I'm sure it wasn't Abigail."

"So Gabi made him disappear. Who else? Who's closest to Gabi?"

"Will, of course. And Sonny. They all live together because of the baby."

"I've never met Sonny. Will, I mean, we always got along, but I identified more with Sami."

Julie nodded as if this confirmed a theory she'd already had. "If Sami had some involvement, that would explain how anxious EJ was to be the one who represented Gabi. He'd have to protect Sami. Marie did mention that just before Nick tried to sneak out of the hospital he said that EJ wasn't going to represent Gabi fairly because of Sami and Kate."

"My Grandma Kate." Chelsea sighed. "That sounds like her, actually. She'd declare war if she thought Nick was any kind of threat to her access to her first great-grandchild, after the way my mom and my Uncle Austin were kept away from her."

"Kate and Sami and Gabi did something to disappear Nick a few months ago, and when he came back at Arianna's christening of all places… that fits. That fits. You see why I'm so concerned, Chelsea. You see why I'm so desperate to protect him."

Chelsea wondered how she'd been lured into a discussion of who might have had a motive to kill Nick when she'd meant to give Julie hell.

"Does Hope know the truth?" Chelsea asked quietly.

"She doesn't. She's an officer of the law. This would be a much more serious lie for her than it is for me."

"You're making her think Nick is dead, though. He's her cousin, too. She had to tell me he was dead, and Shawn, and Ciara. Ciara's just a little girl!"

"I never said this plan came without a price."

"You want me to lie to my brother and sister, too. And to Hope."

"If you ever loved Nick, I think you'll conclude that that's the best thing you can do."

"I also love Shawn. And Ciara. And I never want to hurt Hope again, I can't after what she's forgiven me in the past."

"When that terrible, terrible tragedy happened and Zack died, you were given another chance," said Julie quietly.

"I'm aware of that."

"Don't take Nick's second chance. I'm not saying that we should let this go on forever. That has never been my intention. We just need time to make sure that we know where the threats are. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

"That sounds reasonable," Chelsea heard herself saying.

She stopped herself before she said that she would do it.

_**TBC**_

**Author's Note:** _So to my total shock I got a handful of readers/reviewers (thank you!) Then I promptly fell into the pit of end of year busyness and stopped updating, which is most annoying. Even this chapter is short, but maybe I can get back into the groove of writing now?_


	8. A Revelation

**Part 8: A Revelation**

It was late at night when Julie and Marie had a moment alone to regroup.

"I was surprised at your choice of tactics," Marie told Julie bluntly. "I expected you to go on the attack and shout Chelsea down."

"It was tempting," Julie conceded. "But even I know that sometimes you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."

"You really don't expect Chelsea to tell Hope?"

Julie sighed heavily, and for a rare moment Marie could see stress and years wearing her down. "I don't know. They aren't close but there are very important things between them. I took my best shot at stopping her, and it was a damn good shot. That's all I could do."

"You could tell Hope yourself before Chelsea gets a chance."

Julie shook her head. "Hope wouldn't be any more impressed with me coming clean because Chelsea forced my hand than she would be if I threw myself on her mercy after I got caught. I'm in this to the bitter end, Marie."

* * *

It was past midnight when Chelsea snuck back into Nick's room. She had prepared a ridiculous cover story about dropping the back of her earring and not being able to sleep until she found it, but there was no need. The security guard greeted her politely and waved her past as if it were simply not possible that she was up to no good.

_And I **haven**'**t** done anything wrong… yet,_ she reminded herself. There was no law against visiting an old friend- practically family- who was in the hospital.

There was just a law about pretending that he was dead.

"Hey, Nick," she whispered into the dimly lit room. "Are you awake?"

He didn't answer, and he was so still that she thought he must be asleep, but lightly so; his breathing was too shallow.

"Nick?" she repeated as she inched closer. She saw now that his eyes were open. Still, he made no move to acknowledge that he had heard her. She wasn't certain whether she felt offended, frightened, or just very, very sad.

"You can tell me to leave any time," she told him conversationally. She'd worked with plenty of depressed, withdrawn patients over the years. She knew the drill: keep up a natural attitude, give him plenty of chances to respond, and don't let the silence linger unless he specifically stated a preference for it. "It's your room after all, and it's the middle of the night. So just remember that. I'm not trying to bother you or torture you or stalk you. You're allowed to tell me to get out."

Nick was silent.

"I know you were surprised to see me. Multiply that by about a million, and that's how surprised I was to see you. I thought you were dead, Nick. Hope told me you were dead."

This time Nick shifted and almost-but-not-quite looked at her.

"It was horrible," she told him. "I felt awful. Hope felt awful. Shawn and Ciara felt awful. But you know what? If this is what's best for you, if this is what you need to feel better, I'll do it. I really will do it. I won't like it, but I'll do it."

Nick was back to staring into space, apparently uninterested in her dilemma.

"You don't appreciate the irony a little bit?" she asked. "It used to be the other way around. I'd ask you to do something that went against your moral code. I'd tell you that if you cared about me, if you wanted to save me, you'd do it. More often than not, you'd end up coming through for me." She laughed, suddenly, at a memory. "Once you asked me what I'd do if you asked me to rob a bank for you. I said 'give me the mask and the gun.' You didn't think I meant it. Now I guess I get to prove it to you."

She sighed. "Robbing a bank would be easy. Not easy, easy. We'd have to do a lot of planning to make sure we didn't get caught, but considering your legendary escape attempts around here I'm guessing you'd be able to handle that side of things. At the end of the day, though, the worst case scenario is that we would disappoint our family. Now you know and I know that sucks. I'm not minimizing it. What sucks worse, though, is when you do something that you know will hurt them. I know I'm hurting Hope and my brother and my sister if I lie about you.

"Since you were in Salem pretty recently, I guess you know about my Dad. He's gone and we don't know where he is. We think he's probably alive and we know that if he is he's trying to save the world. That's it. It's one thing with me. He wasn't my Dad that long, and I was the one who left Salem and never came back. It's a whole different thing with Ciara. She's a little girl and no matter how smart she is- and I know you know she's super smart- at some level she just doesn't understand how her father could leave her. Why he was there for Shawn every step of the way but not for her. Why Shawn has all these pretty memories of sailing around the world on a boat, knowing he's the apple of his father's eye, and Ciara has a half empty house and a mother with a broken heart. And this is _not_ fair to Hope. She's loved Dad basically her whole life. You know how much I used to resent that, just wouldn't accept it. Now I understand how special and amazing that is, and how unfair it is that Hope is stuck wondering and waiting and…"

She trailed off. She shouldn't have told Nick this much, not when Nick was in no state to handle his own thoughts and feelings, let alone hers.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she told him. "What I meant to say is that I won't tell. The only reason I'm tempted is because of Hope and what she's going through with Dad. Not because of you. Not because I have any doubts about doing what's best for you. I… it was a shock, that's all. Seeing you alive."

She had an overwhelming urge to kiss his cheek or at least squeeze his hand, but she forced herself to stop. Nick hadn't said a word to her, and she couldn't push into his space any further, not without better information about his mental state.

Obviously she was going to pump her co-workers for information about that tomorrow, since logging into his file from her own account would raise eyebrows- he wasn't her patient, after all.

"Goodnight, Nick," she whispered. "Sleep well. Dream of something happy." She rolled her eyes, deciding that that probably seemed like a ridiculously tall order. "Dream of playing ultimate frisbee in college before you met all of us in Salem and everything got complicated."

Her hand was on the door when she heard his voice, quiet and raspy. "You really thought I was dead?"

She scrambled back to his side. "Yeah."

"Until you saw me today?"

"Yeah," she repeated, even more quietly.

"Does everyone think I'm dead?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, because apparently she was under some sort of shocked spell that kept her from thinking about whether Julie might have had a very good reason for keeping that particular tidbit of information from Nick.

"Does Gabi think she killed me?"

"She's in prison for murdering you." Pain flickered across Nick's face. "I have to agree with your cousin Julie on this one. She'd be there anyway for shooting you, so it doesn't make any difference."

"She'll be there twice as long, at least. That's a difference."

"The truth will be out before-"

"No," said Nick. Quiet, but decided. "If she thinks she's going to miss her daughter's whole childhood when she isn't, we're taking her hope away from her. No one has any right to do that."

Chelsea couldn't argue that point. "Okay."

"You thought I was dead?" Nick couldn't seem to get his head around it.

"We all did. Except I guess Julie and your grandma. And your parents?"

"When you said before that I was supposed to be dead, I thought you meant… I thought you meant I deserved it."

"Oh!" The declaration shot through her like physical pain. "No. No, no, no." He'd gone back to staring into space, pretending that she wasn't there, but this time she couldn't leave it alone. She cupped her hand around his cheek and tilted his head to face her. "Not that. Never that. Really. No. Don't ever think that again."

He didn't answer, but he leaned his cheek into her hand and that was more than good enough.

She didn't know how long had passed before he spoke again. "You need to tell Hope, Chelsea. You can't do this to your family. Or yourself. Or Gabi."

Chelsea felt discontent rise in her throat. "It's nice that you're so sympathetic to the girl who shot you and left you for dead, because I'm not."

"You don't have to be sympathetic. You have to be fair."

Chelsea shrugged. "Is this fair to you?"

"I'm fine."

She shrugged again, not bothering to challenge the lie. Julie had made a good argument for not telling, and Nick made a good argument for honesty. The decision was back where it had always been, in Chelsea's own hands.

"You're still recovering," she said. "You need to sleep."

"Are you going to tell Hope?"

"I don't know."

"Give me one good reason to keep this a secret."

"It might be the only way to keep you safe. That's an excellent reason, and you aren't going to convince me otherwise."

He started to argue, and she shook her head firmly. "No. What did I say? Go back to sleep. Dream of ultimate frisbee."

"I haven't thought about that in forever," he mused.

"Maybe you should."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"You'd be surprised what I remember about you."

All of a sudden, he looked sad again. Chelsea used the opportunity to take her leave without further argument. She had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

The sun was just coming up when Chelsea called Hope. It was early, almost too early, but Hope never considered letting the call go to voicemail. She knew how upset Chelsea had been when they'd last spoken, and of course Bo was in no position to be there for his daughter…

"Hi, Chelsea," said Hope as brightly as she could. "What's up?"

"I need to tell you something really important. It sucks, and it isn't fair, but after everything that's happened with Dad… and Zack… I can't know this and not tell you. I know that you'll do everything you can to try to protect everyone and do the right thing for everyone. I just can't know and not tell you," Chelsea rambled.

The invocation of Zack's name set Hope's mind afire with hundreds of possibilities, none of them pleasant. She forced herself to slip into the mindset of a professional investigator rather than a concerned stepparent. "That's quite an introduction," she told Chelsea. "I take it this is bad news?"

"No." Chelsea laughed as if she, herself, had only just realized that it was not bad news after all. "There are parts that are awkward and horrible and that you're absolutely going to hate. But the big part, the main thing, it's a good thing. I think it's great. I think you'll think it's great."

"All right," Hope prompted with an eye on the clock. She had to get to work and Ciara had to get to school. "Start at the beginning."

"The beginning. Right. I work at a place called the Smith Center. They do rehab of all kinds. Physical, psychological, drugs. Sometimes the new patients have only just had horrible accidents and they're basically in the equivalent of a regular hospital's ICU. It's a very exclusive place. It's private and you can't get in without political connections and a lot of money. It's a hiding place almost before it's a rehab center."

"I know that, Chelsea." At least, Hope was pretty sure she'd known most of it. She knew where Chelsea lived and what she did for a living.

"I met an interesting patient yesterday. A man who was shot in the chest and left for dead by his ex-wife. Some of his family brought him to the Smith Center and let the rest of his family think he was dead."

"All right," said Hope slowly.

"Remember the last time we talked? I mentioned that I saw a woman and we felt like we should know each other but we didn't know from where? I know her name now."

Hope's heart began to pound as her mind put the pieces together. "You're going to make me ask?"

"Marie Horton," said Chelsea flatly. "And the patient, his name is Nick Fallon."

Hope sank to her bed and drew in a deep breath before she demanded that Chelsea give her every detail she knew.

It wasn't surprising that Aunt Marie was clearly not the mastermind behind the faked death. No, that kind of scheme had one woman's fingerprints all over it and Hope didn't need Chelsea to tell her whose.

_Julie_.

* * *

It was midmorning when Rafe arrived at Hope's house feeling more than a little concerned. Hope had called out of work unexpectedly, which was unusual enough; her insistence that they meet somewhere private was even more worrisome.

"You're going to be extremely angry," Hope told him bluntly. "And you have every right to be. I'm furious, too. I don't know if I'm ever going to speak to her again."

"Who?" asked Rafe. It was an obvious enough question, but it seemed that Hope didn't want to start there.

"Maybe I should get you something to break," mused Hope. "I know. That ugly serving bowl. She gave it to me." Hope stood up as if she was really and truly going to dig out a serving bowl, and Rafe grabbed her arm to stop her.

"I think I can handle this without breaking anything."

She nodded. "First, I am so, so sorry Rafe. Obviously I didn't know anything about this. It would have destroyed my career. It might still. I think I have a plan that will give everyone the best chance for a good outcome, but I need your help."

"All right. What do you need?"

"I need you to convince Gabi to get an attorney who is not EJ DiMera. I'd vastly prefer Aiden Jennings, but I'm sure there are others we can trust if she doesn't want Aiden."

"If I could have convinced Gabi to do that, I would have done it already."

"You need to try again."

"Okay," said Rafe slowly. "Is that the part that was going to make me angry?"

Hope shook her head. "No. No. I should have had more sympathy for Chelsea when she had to do this this morning. It's not an easy thing to lead into."

"Who's Chelsea?"

"My stepdaughter. Bo's daughter."

Rafe snapped his fingers. "The one who used to be with Nick. Has she got some kind of information that you think would make the judge change Gabi's sentence?"

"You could say that. Rafe… Nick is alive."

Rafe wished that he had let Hope give him the serving bowl to smash into a million pieces. He settled for letting loose a long, loud torrent of profanity in two languages. He'd been raised not to swear in front of women, but Hope was a cop who had heard everything under the sun. She'd let this one slide.

"So the bastard faked his death," he said when he'd had to interrupt himself to draw breath.

"Technically it was my sister Julie who did the faking."

Rafe threw up his hands to indicate that he did not have the words to explain how little he cared who had actually done the faking. "The point is, my little sister is sitting in prison for a crime that was never committed."

"She did shoot him in cold blood. She thought she'd killed him. She confessed."

_"She'd have gotten ten percent of her sentence if the judge had known Nick was alive!"_ Rafe exploded.

"And that's what I want Aiden- or whoever- to negotiate. Not EJ. When Chelsea stumbled into Julie's plan, she also stumbled into the knowledge that EJ is almost certainly protecting Sami by keeping Gabi from confessing to an earlier attempt on Nick's life-"

"Which was Sami's idea that she dragged Gabi into," Rafe scowled. It didn't surprise him. He'd loved Sami, but he'd known her. While he would have done anything for her children- loved and raised the little ones like his own- she had never been willing to extend the same courtesy to the young sister who meant the world to him. Hell, when Gabi had first gotten pregnant with Arianna Grace, Sami had acted like it had all been some elaborate trap to torment Will, who in Sami's mind had had no role in the baby-making whatsoever.

"Something like that. We don't have the details. We're not even sure, but there's enough circumstantial evidence to suggest that Gabi needs a new attorney if she wants a fair shake."

"She'll get one," said Rafe coolly. He would confront Gabi with the evidence. He would threaten. He would cajole. He would use all the emotional blackmail in his considerable arsenal. He would cry if he had to. But Gabi would give up the idea of falling on her sword for anyone else. She would have someone on her side, and only hers.

"It is my hope that if Gabi's attorney and the DA approach the judge jointly, her sentence can be adjusted quietly with no public fallout. The police department doesn't want the publicity of having found a young girl guilty of murder when the victim wasn't dead. Julie and the other can plead guilty to obstruction of justice. The DA will probably be willing to go easy on them to keep this quiet. Unfortunately."

"If you're so angry at Julie and whoever helped her, why do you care whether it's quiet?"

"If it's not, I lose my job." Rafe nodded. Losing Hope would be a crushing blow for the Salem Police Department; everyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that. "You told me not to get involved with the investigation into Nick's shooting," Hope said regretfully. "You pointed out how inappropriate it was. I should have listened to you."

Rafe laid his hand on her shoulder, some of his anger getting brushed aside by concern for his friend. "It's hard when someone you love, someone you feel responsible for is involved. I might have done the same thing if our positions were reversed. Probably would have." Hope still looked miserable. "Hey," he added with a surge of generosity. "For your sake, I'm glad Nick is alive."

Hope raised an eyebrow. Rafe laughed, a little more tension seeping out of him.

"I hope he stays wherever Julie stashed him forever, and if he doesn't I'm going to follow him around like a stalker so he never gets near Gabi, but I'm still happy for you."

"Thank you, Rafe," said Hope softly.

"I'm happy for me a little bit, too," Rafe admitted. "I didn't like the guy. Not even a little bit. But I worried that… that some of the things I did or didn't do to protect Gabi set things in motion and that maybe Nick's death was on my head, too. I didn't want that."

Hope murmured about how she was sure that wasn't true, and Rafe let her. Hope didn't need to know about Gabi's role in the explosion that had killed Jack Deveraux, and she certainly didn't need to know that Rafe had violated his duties as an officer of the court.

Yeah, Rafe knew about hushing stuff up to take care of family.

"I don't think I'd be able to look at Julie without punching her in the face," Hope was saying. "But- and this scares me- I get where she was coming from. It would be a lot easier for Nick to get his head on straight if the powerful people he pissed off don't know to come looking for him."

"I get that," Rafe told her, and he did.

Hope still looked like she needed a hug, so he gave her one.

* * *

It was lunchtime when Aiden arrived at Hope's house. The plans for the Gala were complete, but he needed her signature on one more form. (There was always one more form.) He'd called her cell phone when he hadn't seen her around the police station, and she had asked him to come to her home if it wasn't too much trouble.

He glanced through the front window as he raised a hand to ring the doorbell.

It wasn't so much what he saw as what he felt that made his hand drop to his side.

Hope was locked in a long embrace with one of the other cops, Rafe Hernandez. Obviously that was none of Aiden's business. Hope could hug whoever she liked. Hope could do whatever she liked with whoever she liked. Married or not. He'd cheated on Meredith left and right before the end, so he wasn't exactly in a position to judge.

Except he wasn't judging.

He was purely, inescapably jealous.

He wanted to be the one with his hands on Hope and his body pressed against hers.

It was more than slightly inconvenient.

He might have cheated on Meredith, but he hadn't felt remotely attracted to another woman since her death. It was Meredith's final, ironic revenge. It was also necessary, things being the way they were with Chase.

"Get a grip," he whispered to himself, and rang the doorbell.

_**TBC**_.


	9. The Gala

**Part 9: The Gala **

Confirming the continued existence of one Nicholas Fallon proved easier than Hope could have imagined. The hospital itself, when circumstances and a subpoena were placed before its general counsel, confirmed that Nick had survived the surgery and been discharged against the surgeon's recommendation; the Smith Center was more recalcitrant but apparently had a good enough working relationship with the police in Virginia that Hope found their records in her hand within a day.

Hope didn't bother to call Julie; instead, she went straight for Jessica, who all but fell over herself confessing at the first hint that Hope knew the truth. Jessica and Josh and even Marie seemed almost grateful to be caught, so much so that Hope found it hard to harbor any anger against them.

Julie was a different matter.

"Did you know, Daddy?" she asked without preamble when she had a moment to call Doug.

"Know what, Princess?"

Hope analyzed his tone carefully. Doug was her father and he loved her and doted on her. He had never been prone to lying to her, but he was a reformed con man and he himself had told her from time to time that she should never forget it. She sensed nothing but genuine confusion and concern.

But then, why would she trust her own senses? She had managed to miss the fact that Nick wasn't dead.

"Do you know what your wife has been up to these past few months?"

"My _wife_?" asked Doug, taken aback at Hope's word choice.

"Yes. The woman you married repeatedly, God only knows why."

"The woman you should not speak about in that tone," said Doug, as if Hope were ten years old and insisting that Lee DuMonde would have made a better stepmother than Julie.

"Sorry," said Hope, not because she was any less furious at Julie but because she didn't want to upset Doug now that she was sure that he hadn't been lying to her, and to Ciara, and to the whole world. "But I have a right to be angry. She let everyone grieve and wallow in their own guilt. Not to mention that she could have brought down the entire Salem PD, and she still might. Those are hard working men and women who risk their lives every day, and her lies turned them all into laughingstocks, not just me. They're already being asked to do more with less, police popularity is at an all-time low all around this country, and the budget cuts and the investigations are going to-"

"What lies are we talking about?" asked Doug, still trying to follow Hope's train of thought.

Hope wasn't perfect, and she was meanly delighted to know that Julie would be hearing something other than words of love from Doug the next time they spoke. There was a certain nasty pleasure in dropping the bomb. "Our little cousin Nick. She faked his death."

* * *

"Hi, Darling," said Julie as soon as Doug called her. "I can't tell you how good it feels to hear your voice."

It was true, too. Joshua and Jessica and Marie hadn't thrown Julie under the proverbial bus; far from it. They had all made it clear that they had made their own decisions to keep Nick hidden. They had traveled together to Salem to face the music of a plea bargain and an extremely large fine. It was a better outcome than Julie could have wished for, and she assumed that she had Hope to thank for it.

She had to assume, because Hope had blocked her calls.

Julie had been waiting for Hope's anger, and she had decided that it was a price worth paying. That didn't mean that she had to like it. Quite the contrary. She and Hope had had an almost necessarily turbulent relationship during Hope's childhood and young adulthood. (The particular low point had been Hope's attachment to Lee DuMonde of all people. Hope had been very young at the time, and of course Lee had manipulated her terribly, but even still… Julie scowled at the memory and wondered whether the matter of Lee DuMonde belonged in Nick's next Horton history lesson. It probably did.)

No doubt Hope had talked to Doug by now, had tattled on Julie as if they were small children.

No doubt that was why Doug was calling.

She could still enjoy the sound of his voice.

"You told me that you were staying with Marie and Jessica for a while," Doug was saying. "There were some things that you left out, though, weren't there?"

Julie didn't do Doug the insult of playing dumb. "I didn't want to drag you into it. I couldn't ask you to lie to Hope, and Hope is an officer of the court and the law. She couldn't lie about Nick even if she wanted to. Believe it or not, I was trying to protect her as much as I could."

"Why did you create something she needed protecting from in the first place?"

"Because I thought it would save his life," said Julie simply. "I made the decision that I thought was best for my family. It might not have been the decision that Gran would have made, but she isn't here and I am."

"The Horton Matriarch for the new millenium," Doug reflected. "God help us."

That wasn't a very nice thing to say, but at least it meant that Doug was only annoyed-mad, not I-will-divorce-you-mad. They were too old for the second kind of mad. They'd already been married three times after all, and three was quite enough to be going on with.

"I'd rather have you helping me," said Julie.

"We've been apart for too long."

"On that, we agree."

"Are you allowed to leave Salem?"

"I'm pretty sure Hope would encourage it," muttered Julie.

"I meant, are you on some kind of probation or monitoring or house arrest?"

"Oh. No."

"Then let's get tickets for the next cruise ship we can get to, no matter what kind of cruise it is."

Julie's heart flooded with warmth. "All right. Tell me where we depart and I'll be on my way in a few hours."

"You're lucky you're the most beautiful girl in the world," he told her.

"I know how lucky I am."

And she still felt that way when she found that Doug had chosen, of all things, a yoga cruise. She may have rolled her eyes, but even under the circumstances that was completely justified.

She told Marie, Jessica, and Joshua of her plans and asked them to give her love to Nick and call her if they thought she could be of any use.

Then she headed for Hope's house for one final goodbye.

She let herself in without knocking. Hope would most likely confiscate her key for that little transgression, but that was better than letting Hope continue to ignore her. You could block a phone number easily enough. It was harder to block a person when she was standing in your living room.

"_Surprise, Hope!"_ Julie called, but Julie was the one who got the surprise.

Hope's hair was swept into an elaborate updo and she wore a floor length purple ballgown. Julie hadn't seen Hope look so glamorous in years; Hope was almost ridiculously beautiful, but years of working on the police force and raising young children had led her to prefer clothes that fell on the practical side of the spectrum. She rarely even wore skirts any more.

"Grandma!" greeted Ciara. She, too, was dressed for a special occasion- she wore a pink and white dress and pretty headband. Ciara scampered to Julie's side for a hug, which Julie gave happily. "You look beautiful," Julie told her.

"Thank you," said Ciara in a way that indicated that she had already known that, as well she should have.

"And you, Hope, you look stunning. Where are you going?"

"The Saint Luke's Academy Gala is tonight," Ciara informed Julie, since Hope hesitated to answer. "Mom and Mr. Jennings organized it."

It was easy enough to guess that Mr. Jennings was the handsome man in the tuxedo. It was also easy enough to see that Mr. Jennings had noticed exactly how well Hope wore the purple gown.

Julie wondered if Hope was encouraging the interest. Bo, fool that he was, had been gone for a very long time.

"Mr. Jennings, I presume?" Julie held out her hand for him to shake, and then glanced at Hope to force the introduction.

Hope gave in, however begrudgingly. "Aiden, this is my sister, Julie." She said it with a raise of her eyebrow that indicated that Aiden had heard all about Julie recently, and that none of it had been flattering.

"Pleased to meet you," said Aiden. His eyes flashed with interest; intelligent as well as handsome, then. "Forgive me for asking such a blunt question, but if you're her sister, why does Ciara call you 'Grandma?'"

"We don't have time for that explanation right now," said Hope.

"Grandma Julie married her own stepfather," said Ciara helpfully. "Mom and Grandma Julie had the same mother, but not the same father. She's really my half aunt, but she's married to my grandfather." Ciara threw her arms wide in exasperation. "See, this kind of thing is why I hate drawing family portraits for school."

Aiden stifled a laugh.

"Well, school's out for the summer and you won't have to draw any portraits for a long time," said Hope smoothly. "Aiden, can you take the kids out to the car?"

"Of course," said Aiden, and he ushered along Ciara and a quiet little boy who was clearly his son.

Julie took the opportunity she was offered. "I'm sorry, Hope. For everything. You have every right to be furious."

"You'd do it all again, wouldn't you?" asked Hope, not needing an answer.

"I would, but I would regret hurting you, just as I did this time, Darling."

Hope shook her head. "I don't have time for this conversation. Aiden and I have been working on this Gala for months. We need to be there."

"All right. I just wanted to say goodbye and apologize in person. Your father and I are leaving for a cruise tomorrow. A yoga cruise if you can believe that." Julie forced a laugh.

"I think yoga is supposed to work better if you have a sound moral foundation," said Hope. "You know, things like truthfulness."

"I'll see what I can learn."

Hope made as if to leave, but then paused once more. "Have you talked to Daddy today?"

"I've spoken to him since you have," Julie confirmed. "He knows. He doesn't approve, but he knows."

Hope nodded. "Have a nice cruise," she said, and that was it.

* * *

After months of planning that sometimes felt more like torture, the Gala itself turned out to be a welcome distraction for Hope.

A distraction from questioning her own abilities as a detective.

A distraction from the potential public relations disaster that was looming over the police force with her ceremonious termination the only possible cure.

A distraction from the betrayal by not only Jessica, Josh, and Marie, but also Julie, who was supposed to be an important part of Hope and Ciara's life.

A distraction from the fact that Hope's own father apparently wasn't so outraged on her behalf that he planned to do anything but take Julie on their umpteenth cruise to celebrate her successful string of lies.

A distraction from the fact that Bo was still nowhere to be found.

Hope smiled; she greeted friends and neighbors; she gave directions; she encouraged the patrons to bid at the silent auction. She watched as Ciara and Chase, the only children in attendance, worked the room in their own way. After an hour, she slipped into the auction room to check that the art remained undisturbed. In the main ballroom, the band began to play the first notes of a waltz.

A moment later, Ciara stormed into the auction room, apparently bored. "They call that music?" she complained.

"It doesn't exactly sound like One Direction, does it?" Hope agreed. "It's called a waltz."

"Isn't that a dance?" asked Chase, who had been trailing in Ciara's wake. Chase and Ciara, against all odds, seemed to have learned to enjoy one another's company. They might even consider each other friends now, Hope mused.

"It is," Hope told Chase. "Wow. Good for you," she added with real surprise. She wondered what kind of life Aiden and Chase had been leading before she'd met them if Chase knew what a waltz was.

"How do you do it?" Ciara queried, suddenly curious. If Chase knew, Ciara wanted to know. That was her way.

"Honey, I haven't waltzed in…" Hope couldn't actually remember the last time she'd waltzed. It had probably had something to do with Princess Gina, and in that case she didn't really want to remember. "A very long time," she completed lamely.

"But I want to learn!" Ciara fixed her determined gaze on Aiden as soon as he entered her line of sight. "Mommy won't teach me how to dance," she complained.

Chase nudged his father, quiet, insecure, but not lacking every child's ability to manipulate a doting parent. "She can't exactly do it alone."

"Do you know how to do it?" Ciara challenged Aiden.

"I sure do," Aiden told her.

There was only one thing Aiden could do now, and Hope's heart sped up at the thought. She couldn't tell whether this was a wonderful idea or a truly terrible one.

Aiden held out his hand. "May I have the honor?"

Hope glanced at Ciara and Chase, half-hoping that they had become bored with the idea. But they both nodded with real enthusiasm, the kind of enthusiasm that no loving parent would crush. Hope noted anew that whatever rivalry of Ciara's and Chase's had brought her into Aiden's life was very much a thing of the past. There they were, encouraging their parents not only to spend time together, but to do something so inherently _romantic…_

Hope took Aiden's hand, then hesitated for so long that Ciara and Chase took the opportunity to duck beneath their arms and position themselves a few feet away, ready to try a waltz for themselves.

Moving her hand to Aiden's shoulder was yet another shock, yet another tiny intimacy. The fabric of his tuxedo jacket and shirt separated his skin from her own, but she could still feel warmth and strength and…

For a moment they merely swayed with the music. Then, as if there had been any doubt, Aiden proved that he did, in fact, know how to waltz. All at once, he swept Hope around the room in his arms. The trials of the day- the last minute problems with the Gala's emcee, the struggle to inventory the silent auction safe, _Julie_, and the always-aching place where Bo should have been- couldn't keep pace with Aiden. Hope wasn't quite sure how she herself was keeping pace with Aiden, as long as it had been since she'd danced like this.

"Thought you said you weren't much of a dancer," Aiden teased, bringing her back to reality just as she was about to drown in his arms.

"I'm not." Hope was a mother and a daughter and a sister and a cousin and a friend and a cop and _Bo Brady's wife_. She was absolutely not a dancer.

"Could've fooled me," he chuckled. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"This." And with that he twirled her across the room, bringing her out of her spin only when they were close to the far wall. Her momentum crushed her close to his chest, as it was supposed to, and their lips were a breath apart.

Her mouth sought the kiss, and her brain only just stopped her in time by throwing up a flashing red light that screamed _MARRIED MARRIED MARRIED _behind her eyes.

Instead, she leaned her head against Aiden's shoulder, perversely seeking comfort for her mental indiscretion from the very man who was the source of that indescretion.

There was no denying now. Aiden hadn't just become her friend who respected her and helped her and made her laugh while inspiring her to do the same thing in return.

Aiden was a very handsome man to whom she was attracted in every sense of the word.

She forced herself to pull away, conscious that he was breathing her in the same way she was breathing him in. Their eyes locked for a long moment and left her in no doubt that her feelings were Aiden's, too.

Traitorously, one of her hands reached up to smooth the lock of hair that had tumbled onto his forehead. Her fingertips vibrated with the small touch, longed to twine themselves deeper into his hair as she kissed him and then-

Then she finally stepped back.

"You stopped dancing." Chase had decided to state the obvious. Had Chase and Ciara been in the room this whole time? Were they old enough to realize that that had been so much more than a dance?

"How come?" prompted Ciara.

Hope clasped her hands with nervousness and looked to Aiden for help. A week earlier, she would have been amused to see him making almost the same gesture. Now it only meant that she was not going to have help making up an excuse.

At least Chase and Ciara needed an excuse. At the least Ciara wasn't yelling that Hope was betraying Bo and Chase wasn't about to avenge his mother's memory.

"I've forgotten the steps," Hope said hollowly.

Once upon a time, Ciara might have been a child who accepted easy answers, but those days were long gone. "Mommy, how could you forget them? You and Mr. Jennings were just doing all the steps."

Hope pulled Ciara away, ostensibly so they could have a private conversation but really because the farther she was from Aiden's searching eyes and Aiden's light cologne and Aiden's warm body and Aiden's teasing voice the better she could think. She told Ciara that, really, they needed to get ready to distribute the artwork to the winners of the silent auction and there was no time for dancing.

She left Ciara no room for further argument.

She had enough arguing to do with herself.

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer:** This chapter borrows some dialog from the July 11, 2014, and July 14, 2014 episodes of _Days of Our Lives_.


	10. But He Laughed

**Part 10: But He Laughed**

Chelsea admitted to herself, privately, that she felt like she'd dodged a bullet when Nick's parents and grandmother returned to the Smith Center without Julie in tow. She knew Julie more by reputation than anything else, but that was enough to tell her that Julie was not a woman who should be crossed lightly.

Nick's parents and grandmother, though, Chelsea had always pictured as sweet, decent, upstanding people who basically lived an idyllic life. Possibly the clouds were shaped like hearts and wild animals occasionally burst into song around them. Nick had always told her that his family had problems—that all families had problems—but she had been hard-pressed to believe him.

So it was with more than a little curiosity that she fell into the habit of seeing Josh, Jessica, and Marie almost every day. Much of what she'd imagined was true. Josh, with his military background, had very cut and dried ideas about right and wrong. Jessica had a sweet shyness tinged with fragility. There was no doubting that Nick was their child; there was no doubting that after decades of marriage they were still in love; and there was no doubting that they loved Nick.

When Nick was moved from the wing for seriously injured patients to a private room suited to someone who needed little more than physical therapy and counseling, Jessica distributed gifts to all of the nurses who had worked with Nick during his stay in intensive care.

"Your parents are nice," she told Nick one day after they'd had a physical therapy session. She had considered asking Nick's family whether they wanted her barred from Nick's case due to her prior relationship with Nick. Then she had rejected that plan; these people had scared the hell out of Chelsea's family and made them grieve needlessly. If Team Fallon had a problem with her continued presence in their lives, well, they could go to the trouble of making the awkward demand that she be removed.

"Yeah," Nick echoed. "My parents are nice."

She searched his tone for sarcasm or hidden meaning and found none. "So how come you didn't go to them when you were in trouble?"

"Don't you think that's kind of a personal question?"

"Yes," Chelsea agreed. "So, how come?"

"Do you always ask your patients incredibly personal questions?"

"No. But usually my patients don't know all about the time my father disowned me for feeding information to a crime lord's underling even though I didn't say anything and the guy was just making stuff up to keep his loser ass out of jail."

"I hadn't thought about Patrick Lockhart in years," said Nick, catching the reference at once. "Do you know what happened to him?"

"Still in prison as far as I know," said Chelsea. "I can ask Hope if you really care."

Nick shook his head to indicate that he did not, in fact, care.

"In that case," Chelsea continued, "Why didn't you go to your parents when—"

"Chelsea, do you think maybe there's a reason I didn't answer you the first two times you asked?"

"The reason could be that you were so distracted by the polite and helpful answers I gave _your_ questions that you forgot to answer _mine_," she suggested.

"Or the reason could be that it's none of your business and I don't want to answer. I'm not asking you why you're hiding out here after you fought so hard and so long to be accepted by your family. You left Salem to be with Billie and Max. I haven't seen them around."

It was Chelsea's turn to prevaricate. "Would you like to see my Mom or Max? I'm sure that either one of them would come."

Nick seemed to think that his point had been proven, because he pointedly turned away from Chelsea and began thumbing through the pile of books and magazines on his table. He still had not been given permission to have any kind of computer; he now knew the secret of his faked death, but his psychiatrist had evaluated his past history of internet use and decided to remove the temptation for the time being.

"All right," said Chelsea. "I moved to London to take care of Mom after she was in an accident. Once she'd recovered, she left London. She never stays in one place too long and she always invites me to come stay with her, but I wanted to… I wanted to build something more secure and more permanent, and that is something Mom is fundamentally incapable of doing. I'm not saying I don't love her, I'm saying she's good at self-sabotage. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Max, he and I broke up and got back together at least twice. There's always another girl or five with Max. Oh, he never cheated on me and I don't believe he ever would have. But right at the end he said Stephanie's name at the wrong time, and he only ever broke up with Stephanie to make Melanie happy, and Melanie turned out to not even be his sister which makes it even weirder. You know Stephanie is one of my best friends _and_ my cousin so if there was something unresolved there I didn't want to be mixed up in it."

"Okay," Nick repeated.

"I thought about going back to Salem then, but that was around the time my Dad disappeared. So what family was I going back to? Mom and Dad weren't there. Shawn wasn't there. There's Ciara, and I do want to spend more time with her, but she wasn't even ten years old. This job came up and I took it. That's all."

Nick remained silent.

"Any more questions you want to ask?"

"No. You win."

"I like winning," said Chelsea casually, and she flopped herself into Nick's chair in a way that staff members were never supposed to do. Nick watched her sharply out of the corner of his eye.

"I changed my mind. I have another question."

Chelsea spread her arms open wide in invitation.

"Don't you have work to do somewhere else?"

"I had a session canceled because one of my clients spiked a fever," said Chelsea cheerily. "I have plenty of free time to bond with my old friend Nick."

"Who is it who has a fever?" Nick wanted to know. "Maybe I'll go see if he's contagious."

"Classified information, Nicky," she teased. "Can't tell you that." He flicked his eyes at her in response and opened one of the magazines—something scientific, she noted. "Am I really bugging you that much?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"That about covers it."

He threw the magazine back on the table. "Why are you here, Chelsea? And don't give me a clever answer about how your parents loved each other very, very much."

Chelsea chuckled; she had been about to make that exact joke. "I like you and I want you to get better. That's why I'm here."

"You don't even know whether you like me. I've changed a lot since we knew each other and I'm guessing you have too."

"If we hadn't changed in the last five years, something would have gone horribly wrong in our development as human beings." He kept his eyes locked on her, still not appreciating her less-than-serious answer. (Although in her opinion, the point was actually a valid one.) "Okay, I'm very aware that we've basically switched places from where we were when we met the first time. That gives me another reason to be here. I need to make the universe right, or else it could just explode, like chaos theory says."

Nick laughed. "That's not what chaos theory says."

The important part was that he laughed. It made Chelsea glow with happiness.

"Chaos is when the present determines the future but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. When the behavior of a dynamical system is highly sensitive to initial conditions, small differences in initial conditions yield widely diverging outcomes. Like the butterfly effect," she told him. "See? I knew."

"You knew."

"I also know that I can help you if you let me."

"The last woman who thought that decided that she'd rather spend life in prison than live in a world with me in it."

Chelsea shrugged. "I don't know that much about Gabi Hernandez, but she doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd know what chaos theory is, if you know what I mean."

"Gabi's not stupid," said Nick loyally. "She's just not very secure."

Chelsea decided to concede the point even though she was unconvinced. "I guess you wouldn't have been with her if you thought she was stupid."

"There are a lot of things more important than knowing what chaos theory is off the top of your head," said Nick. "Like being kind and generous and faithful. Like being brave."

"All things you are."

"I haven't been."

"You can be again. I refuse to believe that the man who kept me out of jail with a stupid bar trick and saved my Aunt Kayla's life by creating a vaccine in the first month I knew him isn't still there and ready to take back his life."

"Even back then I was also the guy who was crazy obsessive and invented Shane Patton because you wouldn't talk to me as me. Remember that?"

"That sounds worse than it was. You saw that I needed help—that I needed you—and you gave it to me the only way you could because I was so blind I couldn't see what was in front of me. Everyone said that at the time. It got out of hand because I was obsessed, not you. Abby told me how many times you tried to end it and I just wouldn't let you."

"Abby," said Nick, like he was surprised to hear the name. His eyes lit with recognition. "Shit. Fuck. Abigail."

"What about her?"

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"We texted a few weeks ago. Why?"

"Call her and ask her if she's okay. Right now. Ask her if anything weird has happened. Ask her if she's been around your cousin Sami at all."

"I know she has. I saw a bunch of pictures of her and Sami on Sami's Facebook. Sami wants Abby in her wedding to EJ or something. I guess they're really close now."

"Damn it."

" Why is that so important?"

"Just call her. They won't let me have a phone or email or anything. Not that she'd listen if she still thinks I'm dead. Does Abigail even know I'm alive?"

"I don't know."

"Call her."

"I don't have my phone on me," said Chelsea calmly. "We aren't supposed to have them in patient areas. They're too afraid that a picture of some politician recovering from a drunk driving accident will end up in the _National Enquirer_. I'll call Abby tonight."

"Okay," said Nick unhappily.

"It might help if I knew what you really wanted to know and why," said Chelsea gently.

Nick seemed to consider that. "I had some pictures," he told her at last. "They were pictures of Abigail and EJ. They were pictures EJ wouldn't want Sami to see."

"Why? They made it look like something was going on between Abby and EJ?"

"They didn't have to _make it_ look like anything. When I disappeared, the first time, Abigail looked for me. Sami sent EJ to shut Abigail up. And boy did he ever find a way."

Chelsea's mouth fell open. "They didn't."

"Oh, they did. Repeatedly."

"Not Abby. No way. He's older and he's taken and he's a DiMera. Abby's idea of being a bad girl is going to a movie on a school night."

"You've changed. I've changed. Abigail changed too."

"You were blackmailing her? Or was it EJ?"

"Not exactly. But in the event of my death, the photos were supposed to go to Sami, and I was reported dead. You know Sami. She's not going to be happy just going after EJ. She's going to put all the blame on Abby, maybe really hurt her."

Chelsea briefly considered defending her cousin; in the end, though, she didn't bother. Nick was right about Sami.

Then Chelsea considered scolding Nick for putting Abby in the crossfire of whatever mess he'd gotten himself into with Sami and not worrying about Abby until now. She didn't do that either.

"All right," she told Nick. "I'll call Abby. I'll warn her about Sami and I'll do it without bringing your name into it. Then maybe you'll see that trusting me a little wouldn't be such a terrible thing."

* * *

Hope spent the first several days after the Gala steadfastly avoiding Aiden. It was surprisingly easy; it seemed likely that he was avoiding her, too. At least they agreed that what had almost happened at the Gala could never happen again.

What she needed, Hope decided, was a change of scenery. It was summer; Ciara was out of school and the police department would no doubt welcome Hope's absence after the mess she had almost made of the Nick Fallon murder investigation. She and Ciara could take off for a few weeks—a few months—and when they got back Aiden would be nothing but Ciara's classmate's father. In the meantime, she and Ciara would be ridiculously far away. Somewhere like South Dakota.

"You're quiet, Mommy," Ciara said as they sat in the Pub.

"Sorry, Ciara."

"That's okay. You were thinking about Daddy, weren't you?"

If only Hope's thoughts had been as simple as missing Bo. "I was thinking about our vacation. You know, I've never seen Mount Rushmore."

"Boring," said Ciara.

"You don't know that. You've never been there."

"I get one summer vacation. I don't want to take the chance. I want to go somewhere I know we both like."

"And where is that?" Hope prompted.

"New Orleans?" Ciara asked, with her most pleading expression on her face. "I loved it when you and Daddy took me there and showed me all of your favorite places."

It wasn't a bad idea. If any destination was going to remind Hope that she was a happily married woman, New Orleans would do it. "You're sure that's what you want?"

Ciara nodded eagerly.

"I'll buy the plane tickets." Hope pulled out her phone and placed her order before she could change her mind. Her head was down, and she didn't see Aiden and Chase enter. She might have avoided them successfully if it hadn't been for Ciara.

"_Chase! Guess what! We're going on vacation to New Orleans. I talked Mom out of a really bad idea about South Dakota," _she shouted eagerly.

"Good move," said Chase.

"New Orleans is the best. The food and the music and everything is beautiful and you get to stay up as late as you want at night. It's practically a rule."

"I've never been there," said Chase. "Dad, can we go to New Orleans sometime?"

"You should come with us!" bubbled Ciara. "We can all take a vacation together now that the Gala is over!"

"Yes!" agreed Chase.

"_No_!" Hope corrected them, and Aiden was scrambling just as fast to tell Chase that they had plans and anyway Chase couldn't just invite himself along on other peoples' vacations.

"Why not?" Chase persisted. "It's not like money's a problem. We have a lot of it."

"So do we," said Ciara.

Hope swallowed her sigh. Shawn-D would never have done this. Zack would never have done this. "Ciara Alice, it is not polite or ladylike to discuss how much money we have."

Aiden, meanwhile, was telling Chase something about content of character being the important thing. It was wise and well-said and Hope had to work hard to tune it out—tune _him_ out.

"If it's not the thing I'm not supposed to talk about, then why?" Ciara continued.

"Because this is a family vacation and we will have to take care of some family matters before we come home."

"What family matters?"

"That's something else we aren't going to discuss right now." Hope had only thrown it in as an excuse, but now she considered that adding Fairfax, Virginia to their itinerary might be a good idea. A day or two with Chelsea would be a wonderful treat for Ciara, and as for Nick… well, seeing him in person might help Hope sort out a few of her own feelings.

"If it's family matters, then I can invite Allie, right?" Ciara pushed.

A chill ran down Hope's spine as she remembered the story of Allie screaming her head off at the sight of Nick's bleeding body. "If you'd like to invite Allie, I'll ask Lucas if it's all right," she decided.

There could be closure in some things, if not others.

_**TBC**_


	11. Alpha Chi Theta

**Part 11: Alpha Chi Theta **

The first few days after Nick asked Chelsea to warn Abby were an unwanted exercise in patience. Schedules were juggled without warning, both among the patients and the staff. As a result, Nick didn't see Chelsea at all. His mother suspected that there had been an outbreak of illness at the Smith Center, but no one would confirm it; Jessica had only been able to come to her conclusion because she had been trained as a nurse herself.

When Chelsea finally arrived, she was all business. Nick couldn't blame her; there was always someone else, a staff member or a patient or one of Nick's parents, in earshot. Still, it was heart-stoppingly frustrating to have Chelsea behave as if she was nothing

but a woman being paid to help a stranger with his physical therapy after an accident. It was hard to remember that short days before her nosy, noisy chatter had felt just as out of place.

He almost hugged her with relief when they were alone for a moment as she settled him back into his room. He decided that he was too sore and sweaty. Besides, she still had not broken her professional mode. There was not a wink or a touch or a word to indicate that she was still _Chelsea_.

"Did you talk to Abigail?" he asked.

"I did. She knows that Sami knows. She suspected it already, actually. Sami likes to go way over the top."

"No kidding." To his surprise, Chelsea did not appear inclined to elaborate. "Did you tell her that I'm alive?"

"No. She knows that the pictures went to Sami from you, but… it seemed like it was complicating things more than it was worth if I told her."

"Okay. I trust your judgment on that."

Chelsea nodded, but remained quiet.

"What are you thinking, Chelsea?" Nick asked at last. "Three days ago, you wanted me to tell you everything. I told you one thing, and now you can't even look at me."

Chelsea looked at him. "Did you really call Abby a whore?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Abby? The girl who traveled all over Europe halfway through college and came back home still a virgin? The girl who could walk into a bar and buy a beer legally before she ever slept with a man? The girl whose magic number is still _two_? That Abby?"

"I'm not proud of it," he said, because he wasn't. "I did a lot of messed up things to end up here. I said even more messed up things. I thought you knew that."

"I did. It's just different to hear it from someone who saw it." Chelsea sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed, and something inside of Nick relaxed. She wasn't running away, and she wasn't putting their relationship back on strictly professional terms. "You said something similar to me when you first saw me here."

"And I told you I was sorry. And I was. And I'm sorry about what I said to Abigail, too. If I ever see her again, I'll apologize."

"Why did you say it?"

"To Abby? Or to you?"

"Either. Both."

"With Abigail… I was jealous. I was really jealous and I lost control."

"Why?"

"We're cousins. We used to be a lot alike. I screwed up my life and she- well, she kind of screwed up her life by getting with EJ but no one knew or cared. I fell off the pedestal and she was still on it."

"I can understand that." She gave him a quick, warm pat on the arm. "I can understand that really well. I don't even want to remember some of the things I said to Shawn because I was jealous that everything seemed to be going right for him, and me not so much."

"You were a kid then," Nick pointed out.

"I was old enough to know better," said Chelsea, waving off his protests. "Kids can be self-centered, but there's no excuse for how far I went. As I recall, you didn't have a problem telling me that at the time."

"I guess not."

"So why did you have an attitude with me when you first saw me? Those things you said about me sleeping around- which I totally forgave you for, I'm not going back on it- I just want to know why. You aren't jealous of me. No one is putting me on a pedestal of any kind."

"My parents and grandmother are going to if you aren't careful," he told her honestly. "And I am jealous of you. Not because of that. Because… are you sure you want an answer to this? There are seven billion people on the planet and I should probably be having this conversation with almost all of them before I have it with you."

"If I ask a question, I can take the answer. Whatever it is."

Nick had his doubts, but talking to Chelsea suddenly felt so good and normal that being completely honest was more temptation than he could take. The therapy sessions he was required to attend every day were also getting him into the weird habit of finding it natural to talk about horrible, private things. "I was jealous because someday you get to have sex again and I don't."

To her immense credit, Chelsea didn't laugh. Her years of professional training served her well, Nick noted. "And why can't you?"

"Because it's never going to be right. Not after what happened in prison. I'm never going to be right enough for it to be okay for me to be with a woman like that."

"What do you mean, what happened in prison?"

Nick could feel his eyes widen. He'd forgotten that not everyone knew. He had been sure that it had been all over his medical records, or that, barring that, Hope had told Chelsea. His throat went dry. He both appreciated the discretion of everyone involved and regretted it.

"Nick?" Chelsea crawled along the bed and planted herself right next to him. Her eyes were as wide as his felt- big and dark and worried. Her pulse had sped up so much that he could feel it when she took his hand. "What happened in prison?"

He gulped down the dryness in his throat. "The first thing you thought of. That's what happened. Every day. Over and over and over."

"Oh, _Nick_." She didn't hyperventilate like Gabi had or dissolve into weeping and caresses like Maggie. She took half a second to catch her breath, and then her voice was hard and demanding. "What happened to the guy? Or… guys?"

"Jensen. He's dead."

"Good," said Chelsea. "Saves me having to do it myself."

"I don't need you to protect me," he muttered.

"Oh, it's no trouble," she said, mock-carefree. "Killing people who rape my friends is a hobby of mine. Just ask Ford Decker. Oh wait, you can't. Not since December 5, 2007, one of the proudest days of my life."

"You know that isn't true."

"You know what, Nick? It kind of is. I was supposed to feel sorry. I told his father I was sorry. And, well, I'm sorry that Carmen and Sloan never forgave me. I'm sorry that my plans pushed Cordy even further past her limit when the poor girl was already hanging on by a thread. I'm sorry for the stress it caused Morgan, trying to balance what everyone in the sorority needed. I'm sorry for every minute of sleep Stephanie lost worrying about me. I'm sorry that it left a stigma on Alpha Chi Theta that none of those girls deserve. But I'm not sorry that Ford Decker isn't out there raping his way across some other college campus, and I'm not sorry that I'm the reason."

"You didn't kill him on purpose, Chelsea."

"No, but it was my idea. Everything was my idea."

"I was so jealous of your sorority back then," Nick mused, happy to be talking about something that wasn't his stay in prison. "Everything you did was with them, you wanted to be with them every second of every day. I thought you were avoiding me. I had no idea what you were going through."

"You were teaching classes at the university, so we couldn't tell you what was going on. You would have been in a really bad position, and after what you'd gone through with me and Willow and the stupid hairbrush, it wasn't like I could mess up your career again." Chelsea rolled her eyes. "God, I sound like Julie justifying not telling Hope that you're alive. And of course the joke was on me, because as soon as I broke the whole sorority oath of silence and told you, that was when things started getting straightened out. You helped me be honest and do the right thing. Like always."

"And then they tried to throw you out of the sorority."

"They didn't, though. They had to have the vote. It was only fair that Carmen and Sloan and everyone else I dragged into the mess get a chance to say how they felt."

"You didn't force them," Nick pushed. "If Carmen or Sloan had called the police that night, it all would have been over right away. My parents and my grandma don't blame Julie for pulling them into faking my death. They all made their own decisions to go along with it."

"They aren't twenty years old. The older you are, the easier it is to tell people _no_. And you know how I can run over people when I'm determined."

"I'm mildly familiar with the situation." Nick thought back to Chelsea's days in the sorority. She'd told him the story, hastily and retroactively, and they'd set about trying to protect everyone involved and giving Crawford Decker closure. He'd never gotten most of the details, and a month later Daniel Jonas had come to Salem and Nick's relationship with Chelsea had never quite been the same. "Want to tell me what really happened back then?"

"I did tell you," said Chelsea, looking hurt. "Remember the whole, now we can vote you off the island for snitching to your boyfriend the professor thing?"

"I mean, the whole story. Like you remember it now."

Chelsea sighed, but not unhappily, and stretched herself out on the bed beside him. She nudged Nick to stretch out, too. "Better for you after a therapy session," she reminded him. Nick didn't ask which kind of therapy she was talking about.

"Okay," Chelsea began. "I always wanted to join a sorority, from the time I was a little girl. I didn't have sisters growing up, and just the idea of borrowing clothes from all those other girls in the house alone was enough to make me want to pledge. You know I loved dancing, and parties, and clubs. It was going to be a huge adventure. Then when I actually started college, Abby was a total stick in the mud about it. She wanted to spend all her time studying and working and whatever."

"The way I remember it, you wanted to spend all your free time trying to get Bo and Billie back together."

"That too," admitted Chelsea. "I'd lost my adoptive family and I wanted to force my new family to love me, and how was I going to do that from a sorority house?"

"They do love you."

"And I never forget how lucky I am. Anyway, when Max dumped Abby and she hauled ass to London, it made me feel more vulnerable than I wanted to admit. Like, she wasn't there to be Little Miss Perfect in my ear all the time, so I had to have all the doubts myself. Plus, you and I were starting to talk about growing up more, and we were making some wonderful plans. When Stephanie came home and wanted to pledge, I told her it was a bad idea. She had to talk me into it. All of a sudden she was the wild child and I was the sensible one, and it was just weird. Alpha Chi Theta seemed like a good compromise. Morgan had just been elected president and she was so strict about things like not allowing underage drinking and making sure we did all that Earth Day stuff year round. The thing that definitely convinced me that it was the right place was meeting Cordy. Remember Cordy's real name?"

"Cordelia, wasn't it?"

"Right. I didn't think about it at the time, but I have since then. What a perfect name, right out of Shakespeare. She worshipped her parents, would rather have died than shamed them. Her father worked three jobs to make sure Cordy could get the best education anyone could buy, and she hardly ever saw him growing up. Her mother was on her hands and knees cleaning houses for extra money. Cordy, God, she'd barely been on a date, barely even looked at boy in her life. Any sorority that had Cordy as a member, well, I couldn't regress or get into trouble joining, right?"

Nick opened his mouth. Chelsea held up her hand.

"Rhetorical question. Out of all the wannabe pledges, the ones who raised the most money for charity were going to get in automatically. Stephanie and I went to the Cheatin' Heart and held a bachelor auction. I guess by then Morgan had decided that she wanted Stephanie and me to join, because she bid $500 for Max."

"That I remember. Stephanie was not happy."

"She was not. So I asked if there was anyone who thought he could bring in more money for charity than Max, and of course Ford Decker couldn't resist that. Cordy had a crush on him but she was too shy to bid. Stephanie bid for her, and from then on Ford always had his eye on Stephanie. He told Cordy he'd take her out the next day.

"Poor Cordy panicked, told us to tell Ford that she had the flu and he was off the hook. I wish we'd done it. Instead, we thought we were doing such a great thing when we got her dressed up in this red dress and fixed her makeup and sent her off with Ford. We sent her off like a lamb to the slaughter.

"A few weeks later we were having a party and of course Ford never missed one of those. He asked Cordy to dance, and she screamed and ran off and said she wanted to drop out of school. Then- remember the whole thing where some psycho kidnapped me to get you to hand over Artemis and DeMarquette?"

"Vividly. Sorry about that."

"Not your fault. Anyway, that's why I didn't go with Stephanie to the next party. That's why I wasn't there to fill in the blanks when she started acting weird but she didn't seem to know exactly where she'd been. So all of a sudden it's Halloween." She flashed a quick smile. "You in that angel costume."

"And you in the devil costume. You looked great."

"So did you. Ford was there, he was bothering all the girls. Morgan decided to get rid of him. He was so drunk she thought he'd be a danger to himself and everyone else if he got behind the wheel, so she did her presidential duty and drove him home. That was when Cordy told us what really happened. That Ford raped her. She was pretty sure she was drugged. We hacked into Ford's webcam- thanks for teaching me that, by the way- and that was when we saw him with taking off Morgan's clothes. You called the campus police, they got there just in time.

"You know how it went after that. Ford would show up everywhere, making comments to Cordy and Morgan and everyone else. We decided to go to the dean's office to testify against him. Then Ford showed up with his father, who was on the Board of Directors. He scared Cordy so much that she couldn't even talk. Now Morgan, Morgan was someone you couldn't shut up if you covered her mouth with duct tape. I've always admired her for the way she stood her ground in that office with Ford and Crawford staring her down. But Crawford won. He twisted every word Morgan said until it sounded like Morgan was the one who was drunk and that she'd asked for it. Like Ford was somehow the victim.

"As if Morgan would ever in a million years have wanted Ford's filthy hands all over her. She loathed him almost as much as I did.

"After that I decided that we should hang posters of Ford all over campus so everyone would know that he was the campus rapist. Sloan and Carmen said we would get thrown out of school. I convinced them. It was always me. Then Ford caught us hanging them up in the Cheatin' Heart."

"The day you punched him in the face."

"What was I supposed to do? He was all over Cordy, telling her to tell us that he always got what he wanted!"

"I kind of wish I'd seen it, actually."

"If I hadn't been number one on Ford's hit list already, that would have done it. The next thing I wanted to do was break into his dorm room and look for evidence."

"And I told you it would be inadmissible."

"So I told you to forget it."

"But I knew you'd go alone if I didn't come with you, so I came."

"Like Sloan and Carmen. You knew I wouldn't stop, so you went along. It felt like we staked out that dorm for hours. Just staring at the front door. Can't you still count every brick on that wall if you close your eyes?"

"If you want to know a secret, I was really looking at you. The avenging angel. I couldn't take my eyes off of you." He shook his head, embarrassed. "Even with everything else going on, we were in a good place right then, you and I." _I liked sitting in a car with you for hours, because it was you, _he decided not to add and make things even more awkward. His feelings were in the past and were about things that had happened a lifetime before. They had no place in the present.

"We were, weren't we?" said Chelsea casually. "So we broke into his room. We found the drugs and the mortar and pestle. And that creepy journal he kept where he rated all the girls he raped, identified by their sorority."

Nick only just stopped himself from shuddering. (For a few hours after physical therapy, something like shuddering hurt.) "I blocked that thing out."

"We saw one Alpha Chi Theta on the night he raped Cordy, and another on the night that I was kidnapped. The night Stephanie wouldn't or couldn't talk about. I thought my Dad would accept the evidence anonymously, but of course he said that we'd committed breaking and entering and he couldn't do anything." She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for not saying 'I told you so.'"

"I wished I'd been wrong."

"And that was when I came up with my great plan. We'd lure Ford over to Alpha Chi Theta and make him feel just as helpless as all the girls he raped did. He hated me- he knew I was the one behind the posters, and of course I'd hit him in the face- so he wouldn't come if I called even though he was pretty much obsessed with punishing me. But Sloan, remember, Sloan looked a lot like me."

"You were prettier."

"Sloan looked a lot like me to anyone who isn't you. I begged Sloan to call Ford and invite him over. She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to be alone with Ford, even with all of us in the next room. Carmen told me to stop. Stephanie told me to stop. Cordy told me to stop. Even Morgan- and Morgan wanted Ford's head on a platter _bad-_ finally told me to stop. I shouted them all down. Sloan did it. She picked up the phone and called Ford. She said that the rest of us were out and she was all alone and wanted to see him. It didn't take much convincing. That's how big his ego was.

"Almost as soon as she hung up the phone, she knew she'd made a mistake. She wanted to back out. At least I didn't do the same thing to her that I did to Cordy and hand her over to Ford. I told Sloan to go hide in Cordy's room with the other girls and the baby monitor. When Ford showed up, I was the one who answered the door.

"He wanted to leave right away, of course, but I told him all sorts of stories about how I had Sloan call him because I knew he would never come if I called. I said I wanted to apologize. I said I knew that Cordy was a liar and I was sorry I'd believed her- that Cordy was just too intense and of course she'd freak out if she had sex with a man she barely knew and call it rape. I said that Morgan and I weren't speaking, that Morgan was a stuck up, full of herself rich bitch who got off on being in charge. I think what really convinced him was when he asked if I was still with you."

A mirthless smile curled the edge of Chelsea's lips. "That was one of Ford's ways of getting to me. He'd call Morgan a slut, or he'd threaten Cordy, or he'd insult you. Usually he said two words about you and I was at his throat. You were right before. Back then we were as close as we ever were. Things were practically perfect between us. The idea of anyone wanting to hurt you or insult you just made my claws come out."

"So what did you say about me?" This was far more detail than Nick had gotten at the time.

"I said that I dumped you because you got too excited about the Human Genome Project."

"Sounds like reasonable grounds for dumping."

"Well, Ford bought it. Or he pretended to. So I offered him a drink. He wanted bourbon on the rocks. You know, I've never had bourbon again, even once, since that day.

"I went into the back where everyone else was waiting. Morgan had the drinks ready; they were listening to everything on the baby monitor. I stopped her. I made everyone stir the drug in Ford's drink because we were all in this together. But what I was really thinking was that I was somehow going to mix the drinks up. I was chanting under my breath the whole time 'Ford left, me right. Ford left, me right.' It's a wonder he didn't hear me.

"Or maybe he did.

"He told me to go put on some music. I tried to get him to choose. He insisted that I do it. I guess when my back was turned, that was when he drugged my drink.

"I came back and he said he still didn't trust me. He said that considering how I'd treated him in the past, I couldn't blame him for being paranoid. He said I should taste his drink first. The drink that I had drugged myself from the stuff we stole from his dorm room."

"You didn't," breathed Nick. Chelsea had definitely left out this detail the first time she'd told him the story.

"Of course I did. I had him. I had him there with the drugged bourbon in his hand, and if taking a roofie myself was what it took, then I was going to close my eyes and think of Alpha Chi Theta and do it.

"So I drank, and he drank, and it was amazing how fast I started to feel dizzy. I was slumping into the couch and telling myself to get up but everything was so fuzzy. He took my hand and I knew I didn't want that. He said 'You know, Chels, I'm glad you were here instead of Sloan. Because after everything you did to me, you deserve exactly what you're gonna get.' He pushed me back into the cushions, and he was kissing me, and that revived me a little because I knew with every single fiber of my being that only you were allowed to kiss me.

"I pushed him off. I got on my feet, somehow, yelling at him to stop. He told me that I knew I wanted it. He threw me back down, he was grinding against me, and that was when the others ran in."

"It took them long enough."

"It probably wasn't as long as it seemed to me. Stephanie was screaming the house down and when he grabbed her to shut her up, I ran. I tried to get up the stairs but I was so confused and dizzy, and he chased me. He pinned me on the stairs, he had his arms around my waist, and I guess that's when the drug finally kicked in for him, because when I pushed him he fell.

"That was it. He died right there on our Alpha Chi Theta rug. It was premeditated- the whole school knew I was out to get him- we were sure we were all going to get the electric chair. So we swore each other to secrecy and the body went into the water heater in the basement, and… well, you know the rest. Max found out and helped us move the body, but otherwise it stayed a secret until I told you.

"And I stick by what I told you. I'm not sorry he's dead and I don't lie awake at night feeling guilty that I was the one who knocked him down those stairs or that I was the reason he was there in the first place.

"And if the monster who hurt you were still alive, I would be happy to throw him down a flight of stairs and stick his body in a water heater too."

"It's not the same," Nick muttered, displeased that the conversation had circled back to him.

"Why not? Cause you're a guy?"

"That's one thing," he said, almost against his will.

"No," said Chelsea ferociously. "It's not. The piece of garbage who attacked Cordy and Stephanie and Morgan and me-"

The alarm on Nick's door gave the telltale chirp of being unlocked from the outside. Chelsea jumped off the bed and grabbed her chart; she had broken about fifty rules in the past ten minutes, not that rule breaking was exactly something new to her.

It was Chelsea's supervisor who entered, wanting to know why Chelsea was late for her next appointment and what had gone wrong with Nick. Chelsea hastened to make up a lie about how they had missed a few sessions and that had made this one drag out just a bit longer than expected. She rushed off to her next appointment, and Nick assured the supervisor that everything was fine.

_Fine_ was a wonderful word for covering a myriad of sins and triumphs.

* * *

Chelsea wanted to check up on Nick again before she left at the end of the day, but when she peeked around the corner she saw telltale signs that Josh and Jessica were visiting. Anything she had to say to Nick would be better said in private.

On her way home, she stopped at the liquor store and bought, for the very first time in her life, a bottle of bourbon.

"Bourbon on the rocks," she said aloud when she got home, hearing the echo of Ford's voice in her own.

She pulled out her phone and scanned quickly through her Facebook friends as she drank. Sloan and Carmen had unfriended her long ago, although, to their credit, not for at least a year after Ford's death. There were plenty of updates from Morgan; no one could have ever doubted that Morgan Hollingsworth would be a success in every aspect of her life and that she would not be shy about sharing. Cordy, like Chelsea herself, posted little and mainly used her account to read what her friends had written. Stephanie seemed to be online, engaged in a bizarre debate with their cousin Jeannie, who for whatever reason was calling herself Theresa.

Chelsea closed out Facebook and texted Stephanie. _Do you have time to talk?_

As she had expected, her phone lit almost immediately with Stephanie's number. "What's up?" asked Stephanie.

Chelsea swirled the bourbon around the ice cubes. She hadn't been missing much by not drinking it, she decided. It was probably an acquired taste. "If you don't want to talk about this, it's totally okay. Tell me to stop, please. I'll be very mad at you if you don't."

"Sounds serious," said Stephanie.

"It is." Chelsea drifted again into her memories- Cordy crying on the floor, Cordy talking about leaving school, Cordy on the verge of suicide. Cordy had always been far closer to Stephanie than to Chelsea. Aunt Kayla had practically adopted Cordy when she'd realized how alone Cordy was. "Do you ever talk to Cordy Han?"

"We email sometimes. The last time was a few weeks ago. Why?"

"No reason. I was just thinking about her. Is she okay?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"No reason."

"And why would you tell me it's okay not to talk about Cordy if I don't want to- oh!" Embarrassedly, Chelsea took another drink as the lightbulb went off over Stephanie's head. "Because of what Ford did to her back in college?"

"Yeah," admitted Chelsea. "She didn't have the kind of support system you did and she didn't have the kind of personality to bounce back. I would never, never minimize what you went through, but you were never the one lying on the floor of the ladies' room talking about killing yourself."

"She's fine," Stephanie repeated. "She's getting married next spring. Her parents are friends with the guy's parents and they ended up hitting it off- not an arranged marriage or anything, but definitely parental recommendation went a long way. Can you imagine if my parents picked a guy for me?"

"They probably would have picked Max," said Chelsea, her tongue loosened by the long day and the alcohol.

"Maybe," said Stephanie neutrally. "Your mom would have picked Nick for you."

Chelsea almost choked. The bourbon burned unpleasantly as she coughed.

"Are you okay?" Stephanie asked. "Should I hang up and call 911?"

"No," Chelsea managed before coughing some more.

"I'm sorry," said Stephanie sincerely. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine. It's true. Mom liked Nick a little too much back then."

"Your whole family thought Nick was the best thing that ever happened to you."

"Not you. You never liked him. You wanted me with Jett, or with Daniel."

"It wasn't that I didn't like Nick," Stephanie corrected. "I just thought that he was a little too ordinary for you. I thought you needed someone who could stick with you when you had adventures and did exciting things. Now, I don't know. If he had stayed that same person instead of things going the way they went, maybe. Probably. You appreciate the nice guys more when you're older."

"What do you know about how things went with Nick?"

"The same stuff everyone knows. He was horrible to Will and Sonny, just a homophobic jackass, and then he blamed it on being raped in prison-"

"_Everybody knew about that?" _Chelsea injected, outraged.

"You didn't?"

"Not until today."

"What happened?"

Chelsea paused. She wasn't sure how far word of Nick's miraculous resurrection had spread or whether Stephanie was supposed to be in the loop.

"You saw him, didn't you," said Stephanie. Statement, not question.

"You knew that too? About him being alive?"

"My mom is Chief of Staff at the hospital," Stephanie reminded. "When there's a question of whether a patient died, and there's a conflict in the hospital records, and the patient turns out to be someone my family knows, someone who practically was part of our family, yes, it gets mentioned."

"I saw him," Chelsea admitted.

"How's he doing?"

"I don't know."

"How are _you_ doing?"

"I don't know. I thought I was doing fine, but today we talked and we talked about…"

"Rape, Chelsea. You're allowed to say the word."

"I kept thinking about how you were, how you'd be so quiet and confused and teary and then you'd scream. But you had your parents and you had Max."

"And I had you," said Stephanie, but Chelsea ignored her.

"Then there was Cordy. She didn't feel like she could tell her parents. She didn't feel like she could tell anyone. We practically had to pry it out of her with a crowbar and she was still convinced that she was alone. I hate the thought of Nick feeling like that. I don't care what he did- I mean, of course I care what he did to Will and Sonny. But when I remember him like he was, the idea of him being alone in some prison cell day after day with no way of defending himself, it makes me so angry that I don't even know what to do."

"Drinking's a good start," said Stephanie, not entirely joking. She was Steve Johnson's daughter, and Steve had certain feelings about the use of alcohol in difficult times. "What was that you choked on?"

"Bourbon. Ford's drink of choice. Want to toast him with me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Were you ever angry with me?" Chelsea asked, and now she knew why she had really called Stephanie. "For the way I handled the thing with Ford. The way I went on a crusade and dragged everyone else along with me."

"No," said Stephanie, sounding surprised. "Is that what you think? Don't ever think that. You made me feel loved. That's what you made me feel. Loved and protected and strong. The way you took charge was amazing. I mean, you made a whole string of really bad decisions, let's not whitewash that, but you were such a force of nature. I was in awe of you. You're my cousin because you are. My mom is your dad's sister and there's no way around it. But you're one of my best friends in the whole world because you're awesome and I love you."

"I love you, too," said Chelsea, tears springing to her eyes.

"Now let's talk about something stupid so you don't brood all night."

But whatever small talk Stephanie might have made about fast racecars and handsome actors and whether their cousin Eric was ever going to forgive Nicole slipped out of Chelsea's head as soon as she ended the call and saw a voicemail from Hope.

"_Chelsea! Hi, Honey. It's Hope. Ciara and I are taking a little vacation to New Orleans and we're bringing Lucas' daughter Allie along. We'd like to take a side trip to Washington to see you. We also want to make arrangements to see Nick. I think it would be good for the girls to see him. Call me when you get a chance."_

Somehow that made her cry again.

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Author's Note: **_This chapter wasn't supposed to exist. All Chelsea was supposed to do was tell Nick that she'd gotten a call from Hope and that she was coming to visit with the little girls. That's it. Instead it morphed into almost 6000 words about that time in 2007 when Chelsea was awesome. Granted, Chelsea was usually awesome but especially during the Alpha Chi Theta storyline. And I did particularly like the look on her face when she told Ford that she dumped Nick over his enthusiasm for the Human Genome project._

_Also, since this used to be my OLTL account, how is that both OLTL and Days had college-dwelling rapists named Ford who came to brutal ends? Weird. I almost wrote "Bobby Ford" instead of "Ford Decker" about five times. Hopefully nothing slipped through my sloppy editing process._

_Anyway. Maybe I'll be back on track next chapter. _

_Please consider reviewing if you made it this far. :)_


	12. Vacation

**Part 12: Vacation**

Alice Caroline Horton was almost a year younger than her cousin Ciara, but she was a head taller and far more compliant. When Hope asked Allie to do something, Allie did it, her long blonde hair swinging behind her in her haste to obey.

It was a nice change of pace.

Not that Hope would have traded her feisty, troublemaking Ciara for anything in the world.

The two weeks in New Orleans were two of the best Hope had spent in a long time, and she was reluctant to load the girls onto the plane to Washington DC. Ciara chattered about seeing Chelsea again; Allie quietly asked whether they could visit the science museum, and Hope assured her that they would find the time.

The next morning, Hope allowed Ciara to order everything off the room service menu for breakfast before sitting both girls down to tell them where they would be going and who they would be seeing.

Ciara let out a whoop of triumph that her favorite cousin Nick had not let himself be bested by a little thing like death.

Allie paled so much that Hope worried that she might faint. "I'm going to call your father," Hope decided. Lucas didn't pick up, which surprised Hope. She and Lucas were not close and did not know each other well, but one of the things she did know was how conscientiously he made himself available to his children. He and Sami texted so relentlessly about Allie's whereabouts that it had become a factor in her investigation into Nick's shooting.

Ten minutes later, Allie had joined Ciara in a victory dance, so Hope decided that the trip could go as planned.

Chelsea met them in the parking lot and made a proper fuss over Ciara, who glowed with happiness. Allie hung back, understandably enough not seeming to remember that she'd met Chelsea before.

"We have to go through security. They're going to take your phones, and, well, pretty much everything else, but especially your phones. Don't try to sneak anything through," Chelsea explained.

"Ciara," Hope added pointedly. "Did you hear that?"

Ciara deigned to acknowledge Hope only as much as was strictly necessary to hand over her phone. Allie followed suit.

"Does Nick know we're coming?" asked Ciara as she skipped along the corridor. Hope raised an eyebrow; her daughter wasn't usually given to skipping. "Are we surprising him?"

"He has to know," said Allie witheringly. "You can't surprise someone who almost died. It might kill him."

"No one is getting killed," Hope told them both hastily.

For once, Hope was struck by the girls' similarities instead of their differences. They turned in unison to stare at her. Ciara's expression was exasperated and Allie's was more pitying, but they were in obvious agreement that Hope was a moron for saying such a thing.

Chelsea, noticing, stifled a giggle and resumed her narration. "It's a nice day today so we're going out to the rose garden instead of into the patient areas."

"That means we won't see any famous people looking all bloody," said Ciara with disappointment.

"Exactly," said Chelsea. "But Nick is waiting for you and he's the one you came to see."

That turned out to be enough for Ciara, who ran straight for Nick as soon as she saw him. She peppered him immediately with questions about faking his own death, just in case she wanted to fake hers one day. Nick advised Ciara that he thought she should look into alternate plans and then held out his hand to Allie, who was watching him carefully.

"Are you all right, Allie?" Nick asked.

"There was a lot of blood," said Allie hollowly.

"Don't start with that," said Ciara. She turned theatrically to Nick. "That was all she said for, like, two days after you were shot." Ciara rolled her eyes. "Allie is _sensitive_."

"There's nothing wrong with being sensitive," said Nick sharply enough that Ciara looked taken aback. Allie's eyes and lips tightened into something that might have been a gloat, and she sat down next to Nick on the bench.

"Sit down, Ciara," Nick invited, and Ciara obeyed, plunking herself on Nick's other side. "You know who you two remind me of?"

"Great-grandma Alice," said Allie, as if she were answering a question on a quiz.

"Everyone says that," Ciara agreed. "Alice Caroline and Ciara Alice. Mostly I think people are just being lazy and saying we're like her because we're named after her."

"Well, I get where people are coming from with that," Nick told them. "And it's a compliment. It is. But that's not who I was thinking of. I didn't really know her that well."

"Neither did we," said Ciara. "Then who _were_ you thinking of?"

"I was thinking of your Grandma Julie and my Grandma Marie. You've met my Grandma Marie?"

Ciara scrunched up her face and made a "kind of" gesture. Allie shook her head.

"You have," said Ciara. "At Great-grandma Alice's funeral. Uncle Mickey's too." Allie shrugged.

"Anyway," said Nick. "Your grandma and my grandma grew up together. My grandma was more like Allie. Sweet and sensitive and worrying about other people. Your grandma was more like you, Ciara. Fiery and passionate and wild. They were friends, though. Both of them smart. Both of them loving. They complemented each other instead of holding each other back. And they're still friends fifty years later even though they still don't agree all the time. Can you imagine being friends with someone for fifty years?"

This time the girls both shook their heads.

"I can't, either," Nick admitted. "But I think part of it is not rolling your eyes when she," and he gestured to Allie, "is cautious and not gloating when she," and he gestured at Ciara, "gets caught doing something she shouldn't be doing. Just think about it."

"I'm sorry, Ciara," said Allie.

"I'm sorry, Allie," said Ciara.

"Good," said Nick. "I wanted to tell you both that I'm sorry, too."

"For what?" asked Allie.

"I'm sorry for scaring you the day you saw me all covered with blood."

"You weren't the one who shot you."

"No, but I did things that set everything in motion. I was not a good cousin to your brother Will and that wasn't just unfair to him. It was unfair to everyone who loves him."

"Will says you should forgive people," said Allie.

"Will is right."

"So I forgive you."

"Thank you, Allie." Then he turned his attention to Ciara. "And Ciara, I'm sorry about that time I helped you get Sami to buy those earrings for you."

"Why?"

"Because you're too young to know what blackmail is."

"It's not like you were the one who taught me what it is."

"I shouldn't have gotten involved."

"You could buy me some earrings to make up for it," suggested Ciara. "Mom gave away most of the earrings Sami bought me and put away the rest."

"She wouldn't let you keep earrings I bought you, either. Nothing good comes from something like that."

"You were more fun before."

"I can be fun now. Look…"

Hope pulled Chelsea back a few steps- not far enough away that they couldn't supervise Nick's every move with the little girls, but far enough to have a whispered conversation that wouldn't be overheard.

"He handled that well," Hope whispered.

"He did, didn't he?" Chelsea whispered back.

"He's been doing better, then?"

"Sometimes." Chelsea bit her lip. "He's up and down, but all the patients here are."

Hope didn't like the sound of that. "Has he threatened you?"

"No!" Chelsea sounded genuinely surprised. "No, not at all. Nothing like that."

"Good," said Hope. "I had to check, Chelsea. We gave him too much benefit of the doubt back in Salem and that didn't work out well for anyone."

"I know. I get that."

"How is it for you, then? Being around Nick again after so many years, when he's changed so much?"

"Different," Chelsea hedged.

"Have you been handling his physical therapy?"

"Yeah."

"Could you ask for him to be reassigned if your history became a problem?"

"I could have, but I don't want to," said Chelsea. "I still care about him and I want everything done right. That means I should do it myself. Really, Hope, I'm fine. And I think that one of these days Nick will be fine, too."

"Is he allowed out?"

"He's not in prison."

"That's not what I meant. Is he well enough? With a wheelchair or something? Allie really wants to go to the science museum and I'm sure it would be even more fun for her if Nick could join us."

"I'm sure he'd like that too." Chelsea shook her head. "But I don't think I can get permission. Even if he's up to it physically, which he probably is if he's motivated, there's about to be a temporary ban on visitors. That's the real reason we're outside and not in Nick's room."

"What's going on?"

"A few of the patients have been sick. It's probably just the flu, but a couple of them had high fevers and every time that happens the administration gets incredibly cautious about people going in and out. Super secret treatment center, you know."

They watched in silence for a moment. The girls had found a stick and drawn a tic tac toe board in the dirt beside one of the rose beds. Nick was coaching them both, explaining that tic tac toe had been "solved" and there was a way to play it so that you could always expect to win or draw. Allie appeared to find this fascinating and was hanging on Nick's every word. Ciara was also listening closely, but the calculating expression on her face made Hope think that they would have to have a talk about how betting with her classmates when the game was rigged was not acceptable.

"Ciara has grown a lot since the last time I saw her," said Chelsea.

"Kids do at her age," Hope agreed. She remembered again how Gabi had mourned all the stages of Ari's life that she would miss while she served her sentence for murdering Nick. For Gabi and Ari's sake, she was pleased that Nick was alive—and proud that Chelsea had told the truth.

"It's more than that, though." Chelsea watched her young sister pensively. "She really misses Dad, doesn't she? It's been hard on her."

"It's been hard on all of us. Ciara, me, you, Shawn-D."

"It's worse when you're a little kid, though. When at some level you still think life is supposed to make sense and be fair."

"That's certainly not a mistake that either one of us is going to make," Hope agreed.

"I know I'm the last person who has any credibility to say something like this," Chelsea began, and then stopped. "Or maybe that's a sign that I shouldn't say anything. You know what, I won't."

"Say what you were thinking, Chelsea."

"I love my Dad. I love him a lot."

"I know that. So does he."

"But what he did to you and Ciara wasn't cool. It's not fair. It's… if he's off doing whatever he's doing without you agreeing that it was okay for him not to see you and Ciara for two years, then that really isn't fair. He just made a unilateral decision to put your lives on hold."

"I don't believe he did that on purpose," Hope said, not even bothering to argue with Chelsea's premise.

"Neither do I," said Chelsea quickly. "But somewhere in there, he made a string of decisions that ended with you and Ciara here, in limbo. Only you can make the right decision for you and Ciara, I get that. But if you did decide to move on—if you went all the way and divorced him for abandonment—you would never hear a word about it from me. I want what's best for you and my little sister, and right now that doesn't look like my Dad."

Whatever Hope had been expecting Chelsea to say, that hadn't been it. "I appreciate the thought, Chelsea."

"You're thinking that I only said it because deep down I'm still the girl who would upend everyone's lives because I want Dad back with my Mom. I swear that's not it. I wouldn't want Billie with him now, not only because she'd always be his second choice but because she doesn't deserve to have him walk out on her, either."

"That's not what I was thinking," said Hope. "I wasn't thinking about Billie at all."

"Then what?"

"I was thinking that you sound a lot like your Aunt Kayla."

Chelsea raised her eyebrows. "How do you mean?"

"I mean that she said almost the same thing to me. That Bo is her brother but that she understands if I need to move on. That he isn't entitled to leave Ciara and me waiting without a word indefinitely. So you're in good company with your opinion."

"The best company," said Chelsea. "But my opinion and Aunt Kayla's don't really matter, do they?"

"No. But I appreciate the support and the love."

"Has it crossed your mind at all?" asked Chelsea. "Ending things with Dad?"

Hope sighed and led Chelsea a little further away to a more secluded bench. "I have thought about it, Honey. That's part of why I wanted to get away with Ciara. I had some feelings that I needed to consider away from Salem."

"Feelings," said Chelsea. "Like for a man who isn't Dad?"

"I have not cheated on your father and I never would."

"I know that."

"I've loved your father my whole life. I don't know what it's like not to love him."

"I know that, too."

Hope sighed. She hadn't really planned to discuss Aiden with Chelsea, but something about the rose garden made her wonder if this might be the right time and Chelsea might be the right person. "You know I was raising funds for Ciara's school."

"Right."

"I was working with a man named Aiden Jennings. He's a widower with a little boy in Ciara's class. At first we had a hard time working together, but then we got to be friends. A few weeks ago we danced at the Gala."

"And?"

"Dancing like that reminded me that there is something missing in my life. I want to repeat myself, Chels. If I did divorce your father, it wouldn't be because I wanted to be with Aiden."

"It would be because you wanted the chance to be with someone, and while you're married to Dad you have to be alone all the time."

"Exactly."

"I get it," said Chelsea. "I think Shawn would get it, too."

"Please don't tell him."

"Of course not."

"Or Ciara. Definitely not Ciara. I think she's gotten to like Aiden, but if it crossed her mind that he was somehow pushing her Daddy out of the picture…"

"Obviously," agreed Chelsea. "If there's anything I can ever do to help you, let me know."

"Only if you do the same. I want you to keep telling me what's going on with you. I want you to stay in touch with Ciara, too. She'll always be your sister."

"Thank you, Hope."

"You're welcome. We've come a long way, haven't we?"

"So far I almost can't believe we're here." Chelsea's eyes were distant as she watched Nick, Allie, and Ciara. "I'm glad, though."

So was Hope. Moving forward, and connecting with someone even when it was difficult, was almost never a mistake.

* * *

That night, after the girls were asleep, Hope sat at the uncomfortable hotel desk with a cheap pad of paper in front of her and an even cheaper pen in her hand.

She doubted that Bo would notice or care what kind of paper she had used.

Who would, under the circumstances?

She had left Salem to get enough distance to decide her next step, and she had decided. When she returned, she would have the emotional part out of the way and would be ready to take the cold, hard step of filing divorce papers.

She set her phone to display one of her favorite pictures of Bo and began to write.

_Dear Bo,_

_I'm sending this to the last known address I have for you. I hope you get it and I know there's no guarantee that you will. But whether you read this or not, I need to write it. _

_You've been the love of my life since I was sixteen years old. We grew up together. God knows we've been through so much together. And in spite of the tragedies and the bad times, I never regretting loving you or choosing to spend my life with you, not for a second. _

_Brady, it's been so long since I've heard a word from you. I can't even assure Ciara or Shawn-D or Chelsea that you'll ever come home. Brady, you've broken my heart and Ciara's. You've deserted us and your actions speak loud and clear to me. You've chosen your mission over us, your family. I get it._

_I am faced with a decision. I can either go on like this and be miserable or I can rejoin the living. As hard as it is, I have to let you go. I can't do this anymore. I have to say goodbye to you, Brady, or the ghost of you- which is all I seem to have left. If you do read this, I know you'll understand. _

_I'll always love you. Always._

_Hope_

She took the letter to the hotel lobby and mailed it.

If she cried that night, she did it quietly enough that the girls did not wake up and ask why.

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer**_**: **__Hope's letter to Bo was taken in large part from the September 17, 2014 episode of _Days of Our Lives. (_Only slightly modified.)_

**Author's Note: **_The following is a public service announcement._

_Do not, I repeat, __**do not, **__rewatch the Touch the Sky storyline. Not even for fic research purposes. It is just as bad as you remember it being._

_It is a wonder that the the Chelsea, Stephanie, Max, and Nick characters recovered at all, let alone recovered so quickly when the sorority storyline started._

_It is not a wonder that the Jeremy and Jett characters vanished as spectacular flops and haven't darkened our screens since._

_The badness of Touch the Sky still continues to defy comprehension. It's not even so bad it's funny. It's just so bad it's bizarre. _

_The above has been a public service announcement. _


	13. First Kiss

**Part 13: First Kiss**

The contact wasn't someone whose name Bo knew, or would ever know. Bo didn't even know the man's face. He saw only the stained orange baseball cap that was his signal to brush the man's side as he rushed past without looking at him.

Bo didn't even feel it when the letter materialized in his pocket.

But he felt it six hours later when he had a chance to catch up on his reading in private.

_Dear Bo,_

_I'm sending this to the last known address I have for you. I hope you get it and I know there's no guarantee that you will. But whether you read this or not, I need to write it._

_You've been the love of my life since I was sixteen years old. We grew up together. God knows we've been through so much together. And in spite of the tragedies and the bad times, I never regretting loving you or choosing to spend my life with you, not for a second._

_Brady, it's been so long since I've heard a word from you. I can't even assure Ciara or Shawn-D or Chelsea that you'll ever come home. Brady, you've broken my heart and Ciara's. You've deserted us and your actions speak loud and clear to me. You've chosen your mission over us, your family. I get it._

_I am faced with a decision. I can either go on like this and be miserable or I can rejoin the living. As hard as it is, I have to let you go. I can't do this anymore. I have to say goodbye to you, Brady, or the ghost of you- which is all I seem to have left. If you do read this, I know you'll understand._

_I'll always love you. Always._

_Hope_

Bo engaged in some fairly creative swearing. His life in law enforcement and his time in the Merchant Marine served him well in that endeavor, but what helped the most were his formative years spent at the docks and the fish market with his Pop. There was nothing like starting early.

He wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean he was any less pissed off by the whole motherfucking piece of shit clusterfuck.

"Damn it, Fancy Face," he muttered, even though he wasn't angry with Hope. Hope was right. Hope had waited for him beyond all reason.

Hope couldn't know that he hadn't chosen his mission over his family.

_She should know that I would never,_ the less logical part of Bo objected. _I would never choose anything over her and the Doodlebug._

There hadn't been a choice at all.

The mission he had originally accepted from the ISA- the mission he had _told_ Hope about after refusing to sign on otherwise- should have been over in four months. Four months was still a long time to stay away from a woman as enticing as Hope and a child as young as Ciara, but it felt so damn good to be able to put away some bad guys without being hampered by bureaucracy and red tape.

Then, quite unexpectedly, the bad guys' reach had turned out to be longer than Bo or Shane or anyone else with the ISA could have imagined.

It was an opportunity that came along once in every ten lifetimes, if that.

But Bo hadn't chosen it. "_Maybe if it weren't for Ciara," _he'd hedged, trying to soften the blow when he told Shane. "_But she's so young. You know what it's like when a girl doesn't have her father for years on end,"_ he'd added, more than a little manipulatively. "_I can't do this."_

That was when the ISA made it abundantly clear that whether or not he _could_, he _would_. There was no extraction plan. Without knowing it, Bo- or Kyran, as his new "colleagues" knew him- had made contact with Alonzo Russo, who would not have hesitated to have Hope and Ciara murdered in front of Bo if he realized who "Kyran" was.

Even with that, Bo had been ready to demand that the ISA go in with guns blazing. Get Alonzo for the small stuff, wait for his underlings to kill each other off in a race to take his place, assume Alonzo's own boss (if he had one) would hang Alonzo out to dry. Take the risk of an incomplete raid.

Then the other shoe dropped.

The DiMeras.

Always the DiMeras.

For decades, Stefano and his mutant spawn had tortured Bo's family. They'd taken Hope from him and Shawn-D. They'd been the reason he and Hope had missed the first two years of Zack's short life. They'd been the reason he hadn't met Chelsea at all until she was sixteen years old.

If Roman could stand eight years locked in a dungeon away from his children and the woman he loved, Bo could damn well stand a life as Kyran for as long as it took to use Alonzo to get to the old man himself.

He'd seen Alonzo kill the sister of the last man who'd stepped out of line.

That would never be Ciara, not even if Bo had to be Kyran for the rest of his life.

Hope had to move on.

Bo loved Hope enough to let her go. Of course he did.

He glared at the postmark on the letter, wondering whether he would ever see Salem again. It took him a moment to realize that the letter had not been sent from Salem at all.

"What were you doing in DC, Fancy Face?" he wondered aloud. They didn't have much family down that way. There was Frankie, and there was…

"Chelsea," he completed, a bit embarrassed to have forgotten his older daughter's last known whereabouts. They hadn't been in touch since she'd left London, which was all the more reason that Bo should have clung to every scrap of third-hand information that came his way.

Sometimes it was hard, now that he was Kyran. Kyran didn't have two daughters, or a son, or a granddaughter.

Visiting Salem was out of the question. There was no way that he could reasonably expect go unnoticed. The damn DiMeras monitored Hope, anyway, because of her role in the police department. He was sure of that.

They monitored Shawn-D as well. Shawn-D had been stupid enough in his youth to run messages between Patrick Lockhart and EJ DiMera. It would be time-consuming, if not impossible, to drop in on Shawn-D while he and his family were living on a boat and forever on the move. And everyone knew that Shawn-D was the particular apple of Bo's eye. Even Caroline had admitted that he was her favorite grandchild. He was the quintessential Brady for the next generation. Damn straight, the DiMeras were putting time and money into knowing where he was.

He tapped the letter thoughtfully against his leg.

Chelsea had always been the black sheep. Years before, Chelsea had begged and pleaded to be allowed to bring money and supplies to Shawn-D when he was on the run because no one would have expected the Bradys to trust Chelsea with with such an important job. In truth, they _hadn't _trusted her; they'd only agreed to let her go if she took Nick with her.

She had come through.

Bo read the letter three more times, torturing himself with each word, before he burned it.

* * *

Aiden knew for a fact that Hope and Ciara had returned to Salem that day.

He knew it because Chase and Ciara had been texting non-stop, and Chase wanted to be sure that he and Ciara stopped by the school bookstore at the same time to pick up their gear for the fall term's classes. (Whatever had happened to picking out a few notebooks and pencils at the local drugstore was something Aiden didn't know.)

Luckily Chase had been dropped off at a sleepover with his friend Owen and Aiden was currently blissfully free of the steady stream of reports on everything Ciara had done in New Orleans and Washington DC.

Aiden used the opportunity to get a drink in the Horton Town Square. (The whole damn Square was named after Hope's family.)

And then he made it two drinks.

Aiden didn't drink. He hadn't since Meredith's death- since before Meredith's death, in fact. That had been Meredith's vice and he had reveled in his superiority every time he reminded himself that it wasn't _his_ vice. That had even been the source of one of his first big arguments with Hope. Aiden hadn't taken kindly to Brady Black's wandering around town three sheets to the wind, and Hope hadn't taken kindly to Aiden's feelings on the situation.

Brady was lucky to have a family that wanted to pick up the pieces every time he destroyed his life.

Aiden was lucky that Meredith hadn't had that. There was Meredith's psychotic friend Bree, and that was about it. Aiden could handle Bree.

"Mind if I join you?" came a voice. He squinted at the woman attached to it. He knew her, but he wasn't certain of how. She wasn't Hope, and that was all that mattered at the moment. People who were not Hope, he could handle.

"The more the merrier," he said grandly.

"Anne Milbauer," she told him. "Head of Human Resources at University Hospital. We've run into each other there."

"Right," said Aiden. He remembered now. She was the one who hated the Horton family on principle. That had a certain appeal.

"You seem like you're feeling no pain," said Anne. "How many of these have you had?"

He watched her through sleepy, half-closed eyes. "Like, one. This is my second. I don't normally drink, and it seems to be hitting me."

Anne leaned in closer. "That is exactly what happens to me. I'll have one or two drinks, and I'll do just about anything. With just about anyone. If you get my drift."

Aiden might have been buzzed, but he wasn't blind and deaf. He had heard a lot of come-ons in the past few years. A wealthy widowed lawyer who doted on his cute little boy made the list of eligible bachelors in just about every town he passed through.

He didn't bother to let Anne down easy; that would only encourage her to try again, and he might as well save everyone time and effort. "You're right, I shouldn't be drinking like this. Not alone." With that, he stalked away.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Anne called after him, but he didn't care.

He cut through the park, and that, of course, was when he almost ran headlong into Hope.

The look she gave him was more reminiscent of a deer in the headlights than anything else.

"Ciara told Chase that you had a wonderful time on vacation. That's great," he tried awkwardly.

"I have to go," she said, with almost the same blunt cut he'd just given Anne. Aiden didn't like being on the other side at all.

He grabbed Hope by the arm- not hard enough to stop her if she really wanted to leave (he did _not_ want to test that police training of hers), but hard enough to make her turn to him. "Look, I know I made you uncomfortable with that dance. There were… things happening there that shouldn't have been happening. You're a married woman and I get that. And I'm not looking to date anyone anyway. So there's no need to pretend that I'm a casual acquaintance you don't like very much."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yes."

"You don't drink. You sit in judgment of people who drink."

Aiden rolled his eyes. Combative Hope was vastly preferable to Timid Hope. He would take a Hope who wanted to fight with him over a Hope who ignored him, and if that didn't demonstrate how well and truly screwed up he was, nothing did. That was it. He was going to have to make a liar of himself and pack Chase up and leave down, breaking all of his promises that Salem was their home now. "Well, now you get to be superior and I know how much you like that."

"What were you doing drinking?"

"Getting hit on by that woman from the hospital. Anne."

"Maybe you should have taken her up on it."

"Why's that?"

"You seem lonely."

"Maybe I like being lonely."

"_Nobody likes being lonely!" _she snapped.

"Well, you don't know me, do you? Obviously you don't know what I like or what I want."

"Fine," she said. "Be lonely to your heart's content, Mr. Jennings."

She turned to leave again, letting him win an argument for once. "That's not what I want," he heard himself say. He was still holding onto her and she was still choosing not to throw him to the ground like a drunken perp. That was all the confirmation he needed to put his free hand in her hair and direct her lips to his.

And she kissed back before she pulled away and covered her lips with her hands.

"I know," he told her. "Married. I'm sorry."

He headed home like he should have done in the first place and settled in to spend the rest of the night getting a grip.

He left his phone nearby, of course, because he had to be available for Chase.

Instead, he got a one-word text from Hope.

_Divorced_.

Aiden wasn't sure whether that was better or worse.

* * *

Chelsea's head was swimming when she got home from work that night. She'd gone out for drinks with a few of her co-workers to celebrate the fact that the Smith Center had gone a solid day without any new cases of the strange illness that had been attacking their patients. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't be looking at a lockdown and weeks of forced overtime after all.

She remembered when it had taken more than a few drinks to throw her off balance. But now that she thought about it, she was always off balance anymore. She had been since the minute she'd seen Nick Fallon alive. Or since the minute she'd heard that he was dead. Or at least since Hope and Ciara had shown up to visit and reminded Chelsea what it was like to have a family.

She kicked off her shoes and didn't notice that the closet door was ajar until it was too late.

There was an arm around her chest and a hand over her mouth and no matter how hard she struggled and tried to scream-

"Calm down, Kid. You're safe."

She knew that voice. But it couldn't be.

"I'm going to take my hand away as soon as you're ready to whisper. There's no bugs in your place, but your neighbors have ears."

She supposed that that was probably true. She didn't really know her neighbors, though.

"It's your dad. I'd never hurt you."

She acknowledged the first. She doubted the second.

"Are you going to be quiet, Chelsea?"

She nodded against his hand. He let go of her and spun her around to face him.

"Dad," she whispered inarticulately.

He looked different. Older. Scruffier. More lines on his face. His dark hair had been dyed red. She might not have known him if she'd seen him in passing.

"In the flesh," he told her.

He was beaming at her like he was drinking her in. Longing and adoration fell off of him in waves.

Once, Chelsea would have sold her soul to see a look like that on Bo Brady's face. She very nearly had.

Today, she slapped.

He didn't make a move to stop her. Her father, who had always been so quick to judge and even quicker to anger, simply stood there with a hurt look in his eyes.

She wasn't having it.

"That wasn't even for me," hissed Chelsea. "You didn't raise me, anyway, so why shouldn't you disappear? That was for Ciara."

"Can we talk about this, Kid?"

She hesitated. He hadn't said a word to her for two years. _Now_ he wanted to talk? Because _he_ decided it was time?

"You know," he whispered, "it's funny how of all my kids you're the most like me."

Chelsea glowered. She knew when she was being manipulated.

"I'm not kidding," said Bo. "Shawn-D looks like me, and we have a lot of the same interests. But his personality, there's so much of Hope in him. Always has been even though I was the one who did most of the hands on parenting with him. But you, even though I didn't know you until you were half grown, even though you look like your mom, you've got my attitude. You jump to conclusions, you run away, and you shoot yourself in the foot because you don't stop and listen."

"Gee, Dad. That's the nicest compliment I've had in months."

"Neither one of us is perfect."

"Unlike _Shawn_," Chelsea couldn't resist returning.

"He's not perfect either. He's not the one I came to see. And that is a compliment, Chelsea. I trust you. I trust you with my life and Hope's life and your baby sister's life. I regret those times that I made you feel like you couldn't trust me, when I let you think I would send you to prison for burning down my house when you weren't the one who did it. You thought I wouldn't listen if you explained that that was your hairbrush at the scene of the crime but that you weren't the one who dropped it there."

Chelsea nodded. Again, the memory of wanting her father's approval so desperately that she couldn't think straight washed over her.

"Are you ready to listen?"

"One second," she whispered, and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could. The fierceness with which Bo hugged back frightened her. She had rarely sensed such desperation in her father, and never without good reason.

"Thanks, Kid," Bo whispered into her hair. "I needed that."

Chelsea kissed his cheek as she pulled away. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Chelsea grabbed Bo by the wrist and led him into her living room. "Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Thanks, but we don't have time to do anything but talk. I could put you in danger by staying here."

"I don't care."

"I do. And the longer you argue, the less you're going to hear about where I've been and why I haven't seen Hope or your sister."

For the next half-hour, Chelsea listened raptly as Bo talked about how he had slipped more deeply undercover than he'd meant to and how trying to get out now could be dangerous not only to him but to the people he loved.

"... I never meant to do this to any of you. You have to believe me."

"I do," said Chelsea. "And so does Hope. We talked about it last week when she was here."

Bo nodded like she'd confirmed something he'd wondered about. "I figured she'd been to see you when I saw the Washington DC postmark on the letter she sent."

"Hope sent you a letter?" asked Chelsea curiously. She hadn't known that Hope had even had a way to contact Bo.

"More like notification that she's divorcing me for abandonment."

"I'm sorry," said Chelsea. "Hope has every right, but it still sucks."

"You said it."

"She can't just sit there waiting and wondering year after year. It's not good for her. And it doesn't exactly set a great example for Ciara."

"I know that, Kid."

"I know you know," said Chelsea, not sure whether she felt guilty or not for rubbing it in.

"Do you think it would have been easier if she thought I was dead?"

"No!" snapped Chelsea. Bo couldn't have asked an easier question. "No, I do not think it would have been easier if she thought you were dead."

"It might have made it easier for her to move on. Look, I thought she was dead once and that pain never went away, but I thought I had some closure and I met your mother and…" Bo trailed off and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "You're right. That was a stupid idea."

Chelsea stared at the ceiling and wondered how she, the one who had actively tried to ruin Bo and Hope's marriage (and had very nearly succeeded), had become confidante to both of them in this mess.

"So you're wondering why I'm here," said Bo astutely.

"Yeah," she admitted.

"If at some point you think it will help Hope or your brother and sister come to terms with what happened to me, tell them the truth. If you think they're better off not knowing, don't tell them. But you can't tell them anytime soon. Not for years, Chelsea. It isn't safe. I told you I think they're under surveillance. I also don't want to make Hope question her judgment right when she's decided to move on."

Chelsea clenched her jaw. She suddenly had a new respect for Julie Williams. "You really can't tell her this yourself? Write her a letter, at least, since she can write you?"

"I don't want there to be physical evidence like that out there. There are too many wrong hands for it to get into."

"Why me?"

"Because," Bo repeated. "You're the one who's the most like me."

Chelsea still wasn't sure that that was a compliment.

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Author's Note: **_In keeping with the public service announcement from the prior chapter, I would like to suggest that if you __**do**_ _ever watch the Touch the Sky storyline for any reason, you should play the Jett Carver Drinking Game. To play, simply drink a shot every time Jett calls Jeremy, Nick, or Max "Bro" in the most condescending tone of voice imaginable. Warning: may cause alcohol poisoning._

**Auxiliary Disclaimer:** _Same as last chapter. Hope's letter is more or less the version used on the show. Also, some of Aiden's dialog is modified from the September 4, 2014 episode of Days._


	14. Dealmaking

**Part 14: Dealmaking**

Going to sleep that night was out of the question, and Chelsea didn't even try. She considered herself a woman of action, and usually at times like these she would have found a bar or a club or a party—even an all-night movie theater would do. But she wasn't going to go anywhere.

If she did, she might miss Bo if he came back.

Even though she knew he wasn't coming back.

So she found herself staring at her phone, looking for someone, anyone, to text or message so that they could talk about anything but her missing father who wasn't quite so missing as he had been that morning.

It was Morgan Hollingsworth who answered one of her texts, and Chelsea nodded to herself. Morgan was just right: someone Chelsea respected and trusted, but not someone who was close enough to Chelsea's family to start asking questions about Bo. She knew that that would have come up with someone like Stephanie or Abby. They'd feel obligated to ask whether she'd heard anything, and she was not in the mood to lie.

_Okay if I call you?_ Morgan texted.

Chelsea hit the call button on her phone, and after several minutes of honeyed greetings (Morgan was capable of getting straight to the point, but only under extreme circumstances), Chelsea realized why Morgan had responded so eagerly to Chelsea's broad, casual attempt at conversation with no one in particular.

"I talked to Cordy Han the other day," said Morgan. "She said that she talked to Stephanie and that Stephanie talked to you."

"Just like being in the sorority house," said Chelsea wryly.

"There are worse places to be, and you and I have both been in some of them."

"That's true," Chelsea agreed. "What did Cordy say that Stephanie said that I said?"

Morgan laughed. "Cordy said that Stephanie said that you asked about her and that you were talking about Ford Decker."

Chelsea gnashed her teeth. Stephanie usually has a better sense of discretion than this. "And if I was?"

"You don't need to get defensive," said Morgan, and that annoyed Chelsea and made her feel even more defensive. "I'm sure Stephanie wasn't trying to betray any kind of confidence. She just thought it would be nice to tell Cordy that you were thinking good thoughts about her, that's all."

"By bringing up the man who raped her and assaulted all of us." Chelsea sighed heavily. She knew that she shouldn't have mentioned Ford to Stephanie. "Is Cordy okay?"

"She's fine. She wondered if you were okay, and so did I."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I never think about Ford Decker when nice things happen in my life," said Morgan bluntly.

"But you do think about him sometimes?"

"When terrible things happen. When I feel like I'm in danger and I can't do anything about it. When someone I care about has been hurt. Times like that."

"Then not very often, I hope?" Chelsea asked quietly.

"No. Not often. But why did you bring him up?"

"The same thing you said," Chelsea admitted even more quietly. "Someone I care about was hurt. Raped." She prayed that Stephanie had had the sense not to tell Cordy that, or at least not _who_.

Morgan inhaled sharply. "How's she doing?"

The choice of pronoun didn't escape Chelsea. Good. Cordy didn't really know anything, Morgan didn't really know anything, and Stephanie wasn't a complete idiot. "It was a while ago, even though I just found out. I think things are getting better."

"How are you doing?"

Wasn't that an interesting question. Chelsea didn't even know where to start, and that was before censoring herself so that she didn't spill some of the juiciest, most dangerous secrets in Salem. She hadn't known this many dark secrets when she'd been in Salem herself.

That wasn't true.

Of course she had.

She'd just come by them differently.

"Chels?" Morgan prompted. "Are you still there?"

"Do you ever think that maybe you did so many crazy things when you were in high school and college that it will take the rest of your life to sort them out? That things that happened then come back in the weirdest, most ridiculous ways?"

"Are you in trouble? Not your friends, not your family, but you?"

"When my friends and family are in trouble, I'm in trouble. That's how it works. Sisterhood, right?"

"Right." Chelsea could hear Morgan smiling. "I knew that about you from the first time I saw you, when you only rushed to make Stephanie happy."

"When I was completely obnoxious to you and everyone else."

This time Morgan laughed out loud. "I think that was my exact word when we sat down to choose who we were going to accept. 'She's obnoxious. I like her. She reminds me of me.'"

It was Chelsea's turn to laugh; she was surprised to find that she could. "You did not say that."

"Yes, I did. You can ask Cordy or Carmen or Sloan or anyone else who was there. I wanted you right away, more than any other girl who came in that year. I knew you would be fun. Why do you think I bid $500 for a date with Max at your fundraiser?"

"Because you liked Max?"

"Honey, if I really have to pay $500 to get a man to spend time with me, I don't want that man. When he dumped me for Stephanie, did you notice me begging or pleading or trying to buy his affection back?"

"No," said Chelsea hastily.

"No. We thought you might bail on the whole initiation process if we didn't short circuit it for you. That's why I made sure you won the fundraiser competition."

"Who's _we_?" asked Chelsea suspiciously.

"All of us. I mean, really, it was Cordy's theory. You know she was the brains of that operation, and she was so into psychology at the time. She said that she thought you had a fear of being abandoned and rejected, so you might reject us first. I had to get you locked in before you had a chance to run. Of course, it all turned out to be silly. You're the last one to run away when things get hard, aren't you?"

A chill ran down Chelsea's spine.

"_It's funny how of all my kids you're the most like me. You've got my attitude. You jump to conclusions, you run away, and you shoot yourself in the foot because you don't stop and listen."_

* * *

"So," Aiden said when he and Hope met, by agreement, at a coffee shop near Saint Luke's Academy. Ciara and Chase had been sent to play on the swings and catch each other up on news of how they'd spent their summer vacations. "Divorced."

Hope held up a hand to stop Aiden from saying anything else. "Can we take this conversation seriously? No games, no wordplay, no one-upmanship."

Aiden blinked. On the one hand, he had fully intended to engage in games, wordplay, and one-upmanship. They were his best lines of defense, and besides, they were fun. On the other hand, the fact that Hope was the kind of person to tell him what she needed upfront in a conversation was nothing short of amazing.

That certainly wasn't how he and Meredith had gone about communicating.

"All right, deal," he told Hope, and he readjusted his posture to indicate that he was listening, not sparring.

"I filed for divorce on grounds of abandonment. The divorce technically isn't final yet, but it should be within a few days."

"I hope- I hope nothing I did-"

"No. Absolutely not. I want this to be very clear to you, and I'm going to make it very clear to Ciara, and, so help me, I will try to make it clear to Bo's family. In one case I already have. I am not divorcing Bo because there's someone else I want to be with. If Bo walked up to me right now, I would drop everything and work on my marriage."

"But Bo isn't going to walk up to you right now."

"No, he's not. And that's why I have to move on. Just like you have to move on even though you miss Meredith and even though you'd do just about anything to have her back."

The assumption amused Aiden. At first, he had been surprised and pleased that no one could tell by looking what his and Meredith's marriage had been. Now, he was merely entertained that even smart people naturally concluded that most marriages were happy. "I don't miss her," he told Hope bluntly.

Hope raised an eyebrow. _Explain_.

"I wish she were here for Chase's sake. She loved Chase and Chase loved her, and every child deserves to have two parents who love him in his life every day. But by the end, I did not love Meredith and Meredith did not love me. It was not a good marriage, and the only thing that kept us together was Chase. Neither one of us could stand the thought of losing him, so we stayed together." Aiden sighed. "She drank. She drank because she couldn't stand being married to me."

"That's why you don't drink."

"That's why."

"What did you do because you couldn't stand being married to her?" Aiden paused, and Hope reconsidered. "I'm sorry, Aiden. Don't answer that. I've just wondered about your past for so long that I don't know when to stop pushing."

Aiden was impressed, again, by Hope's skill in maintaining ground rules for civility in the middle of a difficult conversation. It was such a small thing, and such a rare and useful one. "Thank you. But I'll answer. I worked a lot. The money- my money, Chase's money- it was hers, and if I had to work 20 hours a day to prove that I wasn't some kind of kept man, that she wasn't slumming it with me, I would do it. And I cheated. But I want you to know that cheating is not something I did before or something that would ever happen again if I were in another relationship."

Hope nodded. "All right."

"So," said Aiden. "We've established that I don't drink very much and that my judgment was not the best last night, but, correct me if I'm wrong, you kissed me back."

"So I did."

"Understanding that your divorce has nothing to do with any man in particular, if I asked you to go on a date with me after we drop the kids off for the first day of school, would you say yes?"

"Yes," said Hope. "If you're asking, I'm saying yes."

* * *

Marie didn't usually come to visit Nick in the earliest hours of the morning; that was Josh's time, and had been almost since the moment that Julie had summoned them to the Smith Center and revealed that she'd made the reckless and ridiculous decision to fly a critically injured Nick to Virginia from Salem.

Josh happened to have a morning appointment, however, and so he and Marie had switched shifts—not that Nick seemed to need round the clock monitoring any more. The therapy and the drug regimen were helping.

That Chelsea Brady's presence was helping as well was an added complication Marie was afraid to contemplate too deeply.

In any case, Nick hadn't made any further attempts to escape. Sometimes—more and more often—he was engaging and funny. Today they were reading the science section of the local newspaper and discussing the latest scandal about funding for climate change research. They were so deep in an animated conversation that Marie didn't notice that the Smith Center's administrator had entered the room until the woman loudly excused herself for interrupting.

"Sorry," Marie smiled. "We were distracted."

"I see that." The administrator gave Marie a warm smile of her own. "I'm delighted to see Nick doing so much better. And of course you're both right about that new study."

"What can we do for you?" Marie asked.

"Unfortunately, I'm here to ask you to leave. Everything is under control, but we need to put all visits on hold until further notice."

Marie's blood ran cold. Yes, she had just been thinking to herself that Nick no longer needed a babysitter, but that was before she had expected to be forcibly removed. Just because a thing was _possible_ didn't mean she wanted to give it a try. "Is this about the virus that's making some of the patients so sick?" she hedged. She wasn't positive that there had been an outbreak of some sort, and Nick hadn't been able to get Chelsea to confirm her theory, but she had spent half of her life in a hospital. She knew the drill.

The administrator's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that?"

"I'm a trained nurse," Marie reminded. "My daughter is as well. My father was the chief of staff at our local hospital, and two of my older brothers were doctors. I was helping out with the paperwork as soon as I could read. I know how a medical facility functions."

"That's right," the administrator agreed. Marie determined that the woman must have been very frazzled to have forgotten. It was a security measure at the Smith Center that the the background of everyone who made it past the lobby was well known to the higher ups. "Yes, you're correct. I would ask you not to share it and not worry, however. We have a top-notch medical staff here."

"You don't need to convince me of that," said Marie. "They've been wonderful to Nick."

"They speak highly of you, as well. Your family has become quite popular with the staff. You understand what they're doing but you don't get in their way or second guess them. They appreciate it."

And then Marie got an idea.

"They're going to have a hard few weeks ahead of them, aren't they? Extra work, double shifts, being asked to stay here 24/7 and sleep when they can, no doubt."

"We still have hope that it won't come to that, but if it does, it's in the job description. You know that as well as they do."

"Yes," Marie agreed. "In fact, I'd like to apply for a job here. Just temporary work until the crisis is over."

"Grandma!" Nick objected.

"Be quiet, Nick. I don't make career decisions for you."

"You would if I let you."

"So would every other proud grandmother." Marie returned her gaze to the administrator. "My qualifications are up to date and it shouldn't take you too long to check them out. You already know my background. I'm familiar with the building's layout and with the staff. I can help while you're understaffed, and I'll happily step down as soon as everything is back to normal."

"And you won't have to leave your grandson."

"Seems like a good deal to me," offered Marie.

The administrator looked hard at Marie, sizing her up, and nodded. "You're hired assuming that your certification checks out."

* * *

Chelsea's day didn't get any better when she arrived at work. Three residents had gotten sick overnight, and they were sicker than any of the others had been. Two were in critical condition.

"You don't touch anything without sanitizing it and yourself," the managers snapped at each arriving employee. "Any of the residents who look like they have one hair out of place get a full workup. And no visitors. Not for anyone. You see anyone who doesn't belong here, you call security."

"Lovely," Chelsea murmured under her breath.

She had four patients that morning; she refrained from slapping the one who pointed out that she was being paid for her smile and she should use it. She considered that her success for the day.

Nick was her first afternoon appointment.

"What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he saw her.

She scowled, assuming that she was safe from Nick telling her to smile. "Nothing. Let's go."

Nick was plainly unconvinced, and she hadn't really tried to convince him, but she silenced him with a look each time he appeared ready to broach the subject again.

Nick was accustomed enough to his therapy routine by now that he could get through it without any direction from Chelsea, and he made what was in Chelsea's opinion the wise decision to do so. After a while, she stopped talking entirely and only occasionally pointed or gestured.

The session was almost over when she noticed with some guilt that he was not doing as well as he had done in his previous sessions. She wasn't quite deluded enough to think that her attitude had nothing to do with that. He wasn't applying himself properly because he was worrying about her.

Nick stumbled, and Chelsea decided to end the session on the spot; it was almost over, anyway.

"Come on, Nick," she said tiredly. "Let's call it a day." She ran her hand along his arm, meaning to reassure him that he wasn't the one who had upset her.

Her eyes widened in alarm. Nick was _hot_, and not in the way he should have been after doing physical and occupational therapy. She moved her hand to his forehead, evading Nick's attempts to swat her away, and confirmed her earlier suspicion. Nick was sick with whatever had decided to rip through the Smith Center and put two people in critical condition.

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't feel well?"

Nick shrugged. "Compared to getting shot in the chest three times, I feel great."

"That's not an excuse and you know it."

"You don't want to tell me why you're in such a bad mood," he pointed out obnoxiously.

"Not the same." Chelsea grabbed her official tablet with one hand and in Nick with her other. "You're the patient and I'm your therapist. And what I don't want to talk about isn't putting me or anyone else in any danger." She glanced around and lowered her voice. "I'm not supposed to tell you this because they don't want the patients and families to freak out, but there's some kind of really nasty virus going around."

Nick rolled his eyes. "No kidding."

Chelsea stared at him.

"Your patients and their visitors aren't stupid, you know."

"Most of them are," Chelsea corrected. "You're the exception to about fifty rules."

"As usual," said Nick neutrally, and Chelsea couldn't tell whether he'd taken it as a compliment or an insult. When she'd first met him, he'd taken great pride in the things that had made him unique. Over the years, he'd begun to crave more normalcy. She wasn't sure how he felt now. She surprised herself by standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Nick recoiled.

Chelsea's heart sank.

"I only meant," she told him, choosing her words carefully, "that I care about you professionally and personally, and so you need to get cleaned up and into bed with lots of fluids to see if we can stop this thing before it starts with you."

"I don't think I'm going to get all that sick," Nick tried to assure her.

"I hope you're right. But I'm going to flag your file and I'm going to stand here and make sure you do what I say."

"You going to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story, too?" he asked.

"If that's what it takes. How about _Jimmy Neutron's Book of Inventions_?"

Nick laughed, startled, and suddenly he was the person she'd known a lifetime ago once again. "You remembered that?"

"Brain blast!" That got her another laugh, and some much appreciated compliance with her directions.

She sat in the corner of his room and waited for him to shower and remembered the day they had considered using Jimmy Neutron as a model for their adult lives. It had been an hour or so after Lucas and Sami's wedding; Chelsea and Nick had been sitting in the empty church, Chelsea still wearing her maid of honor gown. The two of them had been so arrogant. Back then, they'd both believed that they could plan a future rather than being steamrolled by the world around them.

"Chels?" Nick returned and got into bed without prompting. "You're sure you don't want to tell me what's wrong?"

"I kind of want to," she admitted. "But I can't. It's not my secret to tell."

"Whatever it is, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?"

"You should never have to look as sad as you look right now. You look almost… almost defeated. That's not a good look for you."

"It's just been a really bad day."

And she had every reason to believe it would get worse before it got better.

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Sorry if this chapter felt like filler. It kind of __**is**_ _filler that got long enough that it needed to be severed from what was supposed to be the basis of this chapter._


	15. Nick's Fever Dream

**Part 15: Nick's Fever Dream**

Chelsea stood over Nick's bed and watched him sleep. His vital signs were perfectly adequate, but she couldn't help but worry about him.

"I can't wait until you wake up so I can say 'I told you so' about getting sick," she told him.

"He does deserve that," said Marie, and Chelsea jumped at the unexpected voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Marie apologized.

"Yeah, I've been jumpy," said Chelsea. "A medical lockdown will do that for you." At the moment, the illness was not spreading as quickly as expected, and neither Chelsea nor Marie were exactly run off of their feet. But that could change at any moment.

"I'm sure the fever isn't comfortable, but it's low. It's not unsafe," said Marie, confirming Chelsea's own thoughts.

She watched as Nick's eyes moved beneath their closed lids. He was clearly dreaming. It felt like a violation to wonder what the dream was about.

* * *

Above all, it was hot.

The world was on fire, and Nick didn't have to look around, or even think, to know where he was.

Hell.

There were some fuzzy images—memories? Fantasies?—tickling at the edges of his mind, images of his parents and his grandmother and Julie and, oddly enough, Chelsea. The images faded too quickly for him to grasp onto them.

Then he saw Gabi, gun raised, shooting to kill.

Then there was nothing but flames.

No, there was a figure shimmering toward him through the heat.

"Chelsea?" he asked, knowing that that was wrong but unable to find another name.

The loud, fake laugh made every muscle in his body tense involuntarily.

"Still with the Chelsea fixation? Really?" The woman glittered, human and not human, alive and not alive, but easily recognized now that she looked Nick in the face.

"Willow Stark," he said.

"Glad your big genius brain remembers me, Nicky!" said Willow with false joviality. She slapped him on the back. It hurt.

"What are you doing here?" Nick asked, and then hated himself for asking as Willow's laugh rang out again.

"Hell is where girls like me go. You're the one who sent me here, remember?" She twirled a hairbrush around her left hand. It was the same hairbrush that had dominated his and Chelsea's lives for six months—the one Willow had stolen from Chelsea and used to frame her for setting Hope and Bo's house on fire. It was the same hairbrush Nick had been lunging for when Willow had fallen, hit her head, and stopped breathing.

"You were an arsonist. You burned down Shawn's apartment before you moved on to his parents," Nick pointed out. "You probably like it around here."

"That's the spirit, Nicky! That's why I'm here to be your guide." She dropped an exaggerated curtsy. "That, and the fact that I was the first life you ruined."

"I didn't ruin your life!" Nick snapped reflexively.

"You stole the evidence that would have exonerated me all because you didn't want your precious _Chelsea_ to go to prison."

"I didn't want her to go to prison for something _you_ did."

"That hairbrush would have exonerated me."

"No, it wouldn't have, because you were guilty."

Willow shrugged as if she were bored. "That was no reason to kill me. Me and my unborn baby, too."

Nick's throat threatened to close. "I never meant for that to happen. Not to you, and certainly not to the baby."

"Your own baby cousin," Willow said, twisting the knife.

"The autopsy showed that the baby wasn't Shawn's. You lied about that, too."

Willow shrugged again. "Well, it could have been. That's almost the same thing."

Nick opened his mouth to tell her that it wasn't the same at all, but thought better of it. Willow had been intractable in life; she was even more so in death. "You're supposed to be guiding me?" he asked instead.

"Right," said Willow boredly. She led him into a cavern that was unlike any cavern Nick had ever seen. For one thing, it was as hot as the rest of the place; steam ghosted up out of nowhere and made it hard to think. Nick's eyes burned, and his lungs burned, and the steam hardened around him almost like a prison cell.

His heart sped up.

And then it sped up further when Trent Robbins thundered to the edge of the cavern.

Nick gulped. "Dean Robbins."

Trent sneered. "You were always so obsequious."

"You were my boss. I thought you were brilliant. Of course I respected you."

"Until you killed me."

"I didn't mean to," Nick protested weakly.

"He says that to all the people he kills," said Willow to Trent.

"It's always true!" Nick objected. He reached toward Dean Robbins, wanting to make him understand. The hot steam that surrounded him scalded his hand; he jumped back. "Why are there holding cells in hell, anyway?" he asked, shaking his hand to lessen the sting of the burns. His whole body ached.

"To protect the likes of you from the likes of us," Trent explained with exaggerated patience.

"But we're all dead already."

Trent shook his head and turned to Willow. "Young Professor Fallon always was very literal-minded. It was his great failing as a scientist."

Nick clenched his jaw. Considering that Dean Robbins had falsified his research and lied about his qualifications, Nick no longer particularly cared what the man thought about Nick's own scholastic achievements.

And then there was what Trent had done to Max…

"You beat Max black and blue," Nick spat, angrier than ever. "He was just a little boy. He was helpless, he was looking to you to protect him, and—"

"He wasn't that helpless. He managed to run away, didn't he?"

"Because living on the streets with no food and no shelter and no family was better than staying with you. He was so traumatized that he didn't talk for years."

Trent rolled his eyes. "But then the sainted Bradys came into his life and he lived happily ever after. No permanent damage."

"He used to fail tests on purpose because he thought that you were smart and he didn't want to be anything like you. Who knows what his life would have been like if he'd been comfortable doing whatever he wanted to do instead of doing things that didn't feel like you? And he's always the one—he has terrific women in his life. He could have married Stephanie or Chelsea or probably even Abigail, but he sabotages it. Do you think that has nothing to do with the way his own father treated him?"

"You'd have been okay with Max marrying Chelsea?" Willow interrupted.

"Yes," said Nick firmly, even as an uncomfortable feeling rose in his chest. "I care about them both. They're both terrific. I want them to be happy."

Willow shook her head, not accepting that. "These strong feelings you have for Max sound a little kinky. Like you want to share Chelsea with him so you can be even closer." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, we know Nick swings both ways," said Trent. "Swings both ways and hates himself for it."

"No," said Nick. "That—Jensen—I didn't have a choice."

"You could have stopped it if you wanted to," said Trent.

"You always stopped me when I offered," said Willow. "Damn near broke your neck getting away from me to save yourself for Chelsea. And I'm a lot prettier than Jensen. You wanted it," she concluded.

"No," repeated Nick, not that saying no had ever gotten him anywhere where Thomas Jensen was concerned. He pushed that to the back of his mind.

Meanwhile, Trent raised his arm, and from the flames there appeared a screen that surrounded them all. "Omniverse technology," said Trent. "Shame the film isn't going to be any good. What a waste."

The screen flickered to life and displayed the inside of a Parisian police station. "There's your precious Max," Trent narrated, as if Nick could not see for himself. "In jail where he belongs."

_Max was frantically explaining that his long-lost sister, Melanie, had given him a stolen bracelet and then told the police that he was the one who had stolen it._

"_I'll find Melanie,"_ Nick saw his past self promising. "_I'll find her and I'll get her to tell the truth."_

"The beginning of your first downfall," snickered Trent. "First of many. Max calls and you come running."

Nick watched in silence as his younger self told Melanie pretty stories about the importance of telling the truth. He'd been naïve. He'd been ridiculous.

He'd been effective, because there was Melanie, trained from birth to be a con artist, confessing what she'd done (more or less) and seeing Max and Stephanie out of the jail.

And there was Trent, ordering Melanie to attend a "private party" as payment for Trent's gambling debts.

"_I'm up for a party. Let me go with you,"_ the younger Nick told a clearly terrified Melanie.

"_No. It's very exclusive."_

_Nick followed her anyway. He followed her, and when Trent's friends attacked her, he attacked them._

Nick bit his lip to keep from hollering in pain as he watched the bullet tear through his younger self's shoulder.

"Should have let her go," said Trent. "She wasn't worth it any more than Max was."

"Why the hell did you adopt Melanie, anyway?" asked Nick. He'd always wondered. "You abandoned Max after you got bored with beating him up. What did you want with Melanie? Who even let you have Melanie?"

"I won her in a poker game," said Trent.

Nick wasn't entirely sure that Trent was joking.

_Max ran into the room, and then Stephanie. The hospital was a blur. Nothing was clear after the doctors gave him the painkillers—not even Chelsea arriving just in time to glare as Melanie climbed onto Nick's hospital bed to kiss him._

The scene shifted.

_They were all back in Salem. They all made threats, Max and Stephanie and Nick, even Caroline Brady and Nicole Walker, but it was Melanie who approached Trent in the graveyard with a box cutter in her hand._

_After what had happened in Paris, Nick wasn't going to let Melanie go alone. He followed her, his mind a painkiller-induced haze. Trent knocked Melanie to the ground and loomed above her, ready to strike. He'd beaten Max; he'd pimped Melanie out to his friends. Nick doubted that there were any lines Trent wouldn't cross when it came to his children._

_Nick picked up the knife. "Stay away from her."_

"_Leave it to Melanie to have a geek like you for a knight in shining armor," Trent laughed._

_Nick stabbed him._

"So was she worth it?" Trent taunted.

"I wasn't going to let you hurt her," said Nick.

"You killed Willow for Chelsea. You killed me for Melanie. Maybe that's the real reason Gabi shot you. She was jealous that all you did for her was make that weird blackmail pact with Chad DiMera. You should have just killed him."

"I didn't mean to kill either of you," Nick protested. "Willow, that was a fluke. We were standing on the beach and you hit your head on the only rock for a mile around. And I only sort of remember killing you, Dean Robbins."

_The painkiller haze got worse. Nick knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the people who had understood about Willow wouldn't understand about Trent. Who killed two people by accident in two years?_

_Who other than Chelsea, of course. What a thing to have in common with your ex-girlfriend._

_Chelsea there, but Chelsea was gone. She was acting concerned. She was even acting jealous of Melanie. But Nick knew that that wouldn't last. She'd go back to Dr. Jonas, no doubt. Chelsea had already explained at great length that Dr. Jonas was perfect._

_It didn't matter. Melanie was there. Melanie thought that she had killed Trent herself, and Nick let her think it. Nick encouraged her to think it. As long as Melanie thought it, Melanie would stay close and Nick wouldn't be alone._

_Then Melanie realized what had really happened._

"Gaslighting my sweet little Melanie," rumbled Trent. "Did you really think you'd get away with it?"

"I wasn't thinking. It was the painkillers. No one realized that the side effects would be that strong. They don't even prescribe them in this country."

"You used the painkiller excuse last time. Boring," yawned Willow.

"I went to prison. I didn't even fight it. I thought it would be better for Melanie if she had that justice, that security of knowing I was locked away. And I gave her the rights to the engine I was developing, and I begged my Aunt Maggie to let Melanie stay with her…"

"And now your Aunt Maggie loves Melanie and hates you!" said Willow triumphantly.

"I think that's what they call irony," said Trent.

"I just call it wimpy," said Willow. "You wouldn't have had to go to prison at all if you'd fought it. Trent was a bad guy. No one missed him. Max practically threw you a parade when he found out. He was more concerned about you than his dead father. Plus you were only on those drugs because you got shot defending Melanie. Do you think I would have decided to sit in prison for four years if I'd had a defense like that?"

"I thought I owed a debt to society," said Nick weakly. It sounded stupid to his own ears. He wouldn't have done it again if he'd had a chance to do it over.

A slow smile spread across Willow's face. "You know I'm right," she gloated. "That's why you didn't want Gabi to go to prison for what she did to you. The punishment might be worse than any crime. She wasn't being noble. She was being stupid."

"She belongs with her daughter," said Nick.

"And that leads us to our next stop on the hellfire tour!" Willow exclaimed. She waved her hand and everything vanished—the movie screen, Trent, and the cavern. "Come on."

Nick tried to look around as they walked, but he couldn't seem to take much in. It took all of his strength to put one foot in front of the other.

* * *

Nick whimpered in his sleep. "Whatever he's dreaming, it's not very nice," said Chelsea. "I really want to wake him up and make it stop."

"You know he needs his sleep," said Marie. She pressed a cold compress to Nick's face, more to feel like she was doing something than for medical reasons.

"Yeah." Chelsea looked at her tablet to see the time. "I have to check in with my boss. You'll call me if you need anything, or he does?"

"Of course," said Marie. "And I'll let you know when he wakes up so you can give him that scolding."

Chelsea smiled. Nick's grandmother was more fun than she'd expected her to be.

* * *

There was a wonderful, welcome blast of cool air across Nick's face.

"Nice, isn't it?" asked Willow. She pointed to the pit in front of them. It was full of grotesquely frozen men and women. "Not so nice for them."

"So that's the innermost circle of hell?"

"How did you know?"

"You never read Dante's _Inferno_, did you?"

"I was a little busy trying to keep a roof over my head and my baby brother in school for that kind of reading," said Willow. "I—I hope Jed knows, though."

"Abby told me that Jed graduated from Salem University," said Nick. He was glad that he could tell Willow that. She'd been an arsonist and a liar and blackmailer, but she had doted on her younger brother.

"I'm glad," said Willow, and she seemed more human than before. "I wanted that so much."

"I know you did."

Then Willow bounced hard on her heels as if she were trying to shake off the vestiges of her humanity. She snapped her fingers and a frozen man was separated from the tangled mass and thrown at their feet.

Nick didn't recognize him. He looked a question at Willow.

"Introduce yourself," Willow instructed the man. "Now!"

"Jake Kositchek." Nick felt sorry that Willow was forcing this man—Jake—to speak. It was obvious that every word was painful. By rights, he should be dead from hypothermia, but death was not an option where they were.

"Doesn't ring a bell, Nicky?" Willow prompted.

"Maybe?" asked Nick. He'd heard the name, at least he thought he had, but he couldn't tie it to a time or a story.

"Tell him why you're here," Willow pushed.

"It's your fault," Jake accused. "Damn you, Josh Fallon."

"That's my dad," said Nick, more confused than ever.

"You look like him. More's the pity."

"What did he do to you?" asked Nick.

"Wouldn't leave 'Jessica' alone," said Jake, with exaggerated air quotes around Nick's mother's name.

"Get to the point," Willow ordered. "We don't have all day."

"They called me the Salem Strangler," said Jake with a triumphant wheeze. "Bonita Jean Struthers. Janie Calvin. Mary Anderson. Lori Masters. Denise Peterson. Samantha Evans. I was trying for Marlena and I got the wrong twin." He wheezed again. "Kind of embarrassing. Then Roman Brady shot me."

"That would have been before I was born," said Nick.

"Not too long before. My life was perfect, you know. I had this beautiful girl, absolute freak, but at the same time an angel. That was her name. Angel. Met her when she was a waitress at the Twilight Bar."

"My mom," Nick said, finally catching on. "Before she gave her up for adoption, my grandma wanted to call her Angelique."

"Angel and I were going to get married, and then this 'Jessica' person comes out to play and would rather be with that drip Josh. But that's what women do, right? That's why I had to kill the others."

"You started killing women because my mom dumped you?" Nick asked.

"Like you've never killed over a woman," said Jake, pointing at Willow.

"Thank you, Jake," said Willow. Jake snarled like he might disembowel Willow on the spot. Willow stepped closer to Nick.

"She didn't exactly dump me," Jake continued. "Even after they said Angel was just a part of Jessica, Jessica stayed with me. But I knew what was coming. I know how women are. All those women went to the Body Connection, and I worked there, but so did Josh. I'd put these silk scarves in Josh's locker, see. The cops looked at him instead of me."

"Good move," said Willow.

"They figured out it was a frame job," said Jake.

"I hate it when that happens," said Willow, and Jake snarled at her again.

"Women," Jake told Nick. "Roman shot me and your parents went off to live happily ever after. But here's the thing. Their baby boy Nick is more like me than like them. I feel you, Nick. All that stuff that happened with Willow, that was her fault."

"I never said that. Not exactly."

"All that stuff with Trent. That was him. And the drugs. You never meant to torture Melanie. You just knew she'd come up with some shit like 'it wasn't me who kissed you, it was my alternate personality.' So you had to keep her in line."

"I don't feel like that."

"And the stuff with Will and Sonny, that's on Jensen, not on you. You and me, people like us, they just want to blame us when it isn't our fault."

Jake reached toward Nick and grabbed his arm emphatically.

Nick heard himself scream before he registered the pain rushing through his veins with a burning, freezing cold.

Willow looked at him with something like concern. "Get on to showing Nick what he needs to see."

"When I'm good and ready," said Jake.

"I'll call the boss. I will. He and I had a good talk about the best ways to start a fire the other day," Willow snapped.

"Women," Jake sneered to Nick. "They'll shoot you in the back if they can. But I don't need to tell you that."

A screen appeared beside them, this one smaller and more intimate than the one Trent had used.

"Gabi," Nick gasped. He reached for the screen, wanting to assure himself that she was all right. He felt nothing when he tried to touch her.

"Still with the feelings for her? Really?" asked Willow.

Nick ignored her and concentrated on Gabi.

Gabi was being led into the visiting room. Her face was free of makeup and she wore an orange jumpsuit, but she still looked beautiful to Nick. She nodded at the guards, accepting their instruction, and Nick let out a sigh of relief. The guards liked her; Nick could tell. They might not look the other way if something terrible happened.

_A moment later, Will entered the room from the opposite side. Arianna Grace was perched on his hip._

_Arianna let out a coo of delight when she recognized her mother._

"_No touching," a guard reminded._

"_We know," said Will. "We just wave 'hi' to Mommy," he instructed the toddler. "Wave 'hi.'"_

_Arianna obeyed._

"_Can you blow a kiss?" Will asked._

_Again, Arianna obeyed._

_Gabi blinked back tears and returned the gesture._

"_We've been working on that," Will explained._

"_I can see." Gabi's voice cracked. "She's such a smart baby, isn't she?"_

"_The smartest," said Will."She's gonna set the world on fire when she starts school." A wide, genuine grin lit Will's face. "And you're going to be there for her first day of kindergarten."_

_Gabi smiled back. "I know. You don't know how much easier every day in here is, knowing that. I thought I was going to miss her whole life, and now… I have something to look forward to."_

"_I'm glad. Not just for you and Ari, but for Sonny and me. Trust me, we were not looking forward to raising a teenage girl with no one to tell us how women think."_

"_You'd've been great," said Gabi. "You will be great. I'm the luckiest mommy in the world, because I know my baby has two parents to love her while I'm gone."_

"_But you can't be replaced," Will assured quickly. "The party Sonny and I will throw you when you get out is going to make you forget everything that's happening now." He swept his eyes over Gabi, clearly checking for bruises and other signs of distress. "How are things in here?"_

_Gabi drew in a deep breath and let it out. "Fine. Considering."_

"_Supposedly that's what your ex-husband used to say."_

"_I am not Nick Fallon."_

"_Nick Fallon didn't used to be Nick Fallon. The guy's a son of a bitch and I'm not excusing him. Believe me, I was relieved when I thought he was dead and I didn't have to worry about him destroying Ari's family. But even the biggest jerk on the planet doesn't deserve what he was getting. He's an example of what goes wrong, and if anything like that is happening to you, I want you to tell me. Or tell your brother. Tell someone."_

"_It's not happening. And if it did I wouldn't be Nick about it." Gabi made a face. "Good news, I'm getting out years earlier than I expected. Bad news, it's because Nick is alive and can slither back into our lives and threaten our daughter's family any time he wants."_

"_He's only a threat if we let him be," said Will. "This is why I'm worried about you. You could have told Rafe or me or someone that you thought Nick was going to blackmail you. You didn't have to take things into your own hands."_

"_I've learned my lesson. We face things together from now on."_

"_Good."_

"_Have you-?" Gabi hesitated. "Have you seen Nick, or talked to him since he came back?" _

"_No. Hopefully he's decided to do everyone a favor and stay out of Salem forever. That's the best apology he could give. He's swearing he's sorry."_

"_We've heard that before."_

"_Yeah. The only one I know who saw him besides Julie was Hope. Oh, and Hope took Ciara and Allie with her. Of course, they think he's great. Allie says he apologized and she forgives him."_

"_I'm surprised your dad let Allie go."_

"_Me too. But she was traumatized when she saw him bleeding. She needed to see him again. Dad says it made her nightmares stop."_

"_I'm so sorry," said Gabi. "I never thought about something like that happening. Poor Allie."_

"_Next time, you'll think. Next time you feel afraid, you'll come to me. We'll all have a Fallon-free zone because we'll all work together."_

The picture faded out.

"Bet you wish I'd got Marlena instead of Samantha," said Jake. "Then you wouldn't have had to put up with her holier-than-thou grandson."

"If you had your way, I wouldn't exist either," Nick pointed out.

"Can't have everything," said Jake, and he was gone.

"Not true, bitch," Jensen whispered in Nick's ear.

Nick felt himself start to faint. The smell of ash and sulfur began to mix with the stench of sweat and fear.

Over and over.

He didn't like the feeling of Jensen's sweat on his own. He didn't like Jensen's voice in his ear or the bruises or the hot, raw, chopped feeling inside of him.

"Help," he whispered, and Willow was holding him up.

He'd never thought he would see the day that he'd look to Willow Stark for support.

"This is why you're supposed to wait for me to call you!" Willow snapped at Jensen.

"I tell Nick what to do. Nick doesn't tell me what to do," Jensen replied. "Right, bitch?"

"Actually, I'm the guide here and I tell you both what to do." A wall of flame appeared, partially shielding Nick from Jensen. "This is about Nick."

"You have nothing to do with me," Nick told Jensen. "No."

"You always say no when you mean yes," said Jensen. "Dean Robbins agrees with me. If you hadn't wanted it, you would have made it stop instead of waiting for Vargas to come rescue you like you were a whiney little girl."

"That's not an insult," said Nick. "I know some spectacular little girls." There was Arianna Grace for one. Ciara and Allie for two more.

"Yeah?" yelled Jake from his pit, concealed from view by the wall of flame. "Is that what your military body building daddy Josh thinks? That his only son was too weak and sensitive to stop himself from getting raped, but that's okay?"

"No, that's not what he thinks, because he's nothing like you." Nick's vision was blurring again.

Jake might be right. Josh had been appropriately polite and concerned, but he had never mentioned the rape.

Trent might be right. He'd failed because he wasn't strong enough. A man like Max wouldn't have failed. Nick could say politically correct things about how "little girl" _shouldn't_ be an insult, but it _was_ and Nick knew it.

Jensen might be right. Nick might never escape him.

"There you go," said Jensen, as if Nick had spoken aloud. "If you think what I did was all that bad, why'd you turn around and pin Gabi down in the woods after she said no?"

"I was wrong." Nick felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. "I thought, just for a second, that if I kissed her and touched her she'd understand that I loved her. I hurt her when I said I didn't know if I loved her because everything I did was about trying to get away from you."

"It's always going to be about me," said Jensen. "You call your cousin names and try to steal his kid, it's about me. You pin Gabi down like I pinned you down, it's about me. You think your daddy's never going to love you again and you're too ashamed to show him your face after you get out of prison, it's about me. There's no you left. There's only me."

"Gabi understood," Nick said hollowly. "She took me back after that happened."

"Only to get close enough to shoot you," said Jensen.

"Which she didn't have to do. It didn't make any sense," said Nick.

"Women never do," yelled Jake. "Should've strangled her before she could shoot you."

"I don't want her to be dead. I want her to be sitting in a park somewhere with Ari. I'll do just like Will said. I'll stay away and they won't have to worry about me."

"You'll always want to go back to the scene of the crime," said Jensen.

"I won't," said Nick.

"I kept coming back," said Jensen.

"Me too," said Jake.

"I won't," repeated Nick.

"I kind of like you when you're assertive," said Willow. "Not so much the night you killed me, but other times. Isn't that why Chelsea dumped you? She said you were always trying to be nice and liked instead of being yourself."

Willow waved her hand and a screen appeared.

"That's my job," said Jensen.

"You weren't doing it," said Willow.

Once again, Nick was looking at his younger self.

_He was in Hope's living room watching Hope help Artemis and DeMarquette with their morning snack. Chelsea came in wearing a barely-there bikini top, clearly headed for the beach._

_With Jett._

Nick cringed. He and Chelsea had broken up and gotten together so many times that summer that he'd lost track. There were plenty of breakups that he didn't remember. This one he did, and he didn't need Willow's magic screen to remind him.

_Nick asked Chelsea to talk to him before she left for the beach, the same beach where Willow had died a month or two before._

_Chelsea gave him her most cutting smile. That had always turned him on, even when it was directed at him. "Nick, that is so sweet," said Chelsea, sarcasm dripping from her every word. "But you really came here to see Hope, right, to get parenting advice. Those kids have to come first."_

_Nick tried to swallow his exasperation and explain that even though Artemis and DeMarquette were only his stepsons in the most tenuous sense of the word, he had to look out for them. When a helpless child was thrown into your life, you didn't ignore him. It was pretty much one of the basic rules of civilization. "Look, Chelsea," he began, but Chelsea was on a roll._

"_No, Nick. You don't have to explain it to me. I get it. You're a dad now. That's huge. You need somebody with that experience, and that's definitely not me."_

"_I only have these kids for 29 more days until China Lee gets out of jail," Nick argued, but Chelsea headed for the door with a beach towel over her shoulder. "Why are you doing this?" he asked desperately._

"_Because it's cooler at the beach?" Chelsea drew out slowly, wilfully misunderstanding. _

"_You know what I mean."_

"_Not lately, no."_

"_These kids are my responsibility."_

"_And I am just an afterthought."_

"_No, of course not."_

"_You know, Nick, I thought you mentioned something about going to talk to your Uncle Mickey about maybe putting them in a foster home."_

"_I thought about it."_

"_And?"_

"_And I don't know that they're gonna go to a good home."_

"_Isn't that the point of foster care?"_

"_I just can't," Nick pleaded._

"_No. No, of course you can't, Nick, not you, not Nick 'The Mark' Fallon. You know why China Lee took advantage of you, right? Because she knew she could. She probably saw you coming from a mile away."_

"_I didn't let China Lee take advantage of me. I had a concussion when we got married in Vegas. I still don't remember doing it."_

"_And I was very understanding about that, was I not? Until she dumped those kids in your lap."_

"_We've already gone through this."_

"_I know. I know she's got no family, no one to take the kids in."_

"_How would you feel if no one took you in after your parents died?"_

"_China Lee is not dead. She's in jail for soliciting."_

"_Well, she's the only person those kids have to depend on."_

"_And just how pathetic is that?"_

_Nick shook his head. "These kids need me."_

"_And I don't," said Chelsea sharply._

"_No. You do. You need me when you get a hairbrush stolen or someone to lie for you or someone to keep you out of jail."_

_Chelsea glared, getting hotter every moment. "That is so unfair. You think that I'm just hanging in this relationship because I feel like I owe it to you? You know, if that's how you really think, then why did you even do any of this for me anyway?"_

"_Because I love you," said Nick. It always came back to that._

"_And look where that's gotten you, huh? You have no job. You've got no money," Chelsea taunted._

"_Just you. At least I think I still have you. Do I?"_

"_I love you, Nick," said Chelsea, and it broke his heart. "You know that."_

"_Hasn't really felt that way," Nick said._

"_This is exactly what I am talking about, Nick. Your neediness."_

"_You're changing the subject."_

"_No, you let people walk all over you because you're desperate to be liked. You have to like yourself first."_

"_Are you the expert on this?" asked Nick. The irony of Chelsea Benson Brady telling someone else to respect himself enough not to be self-destructive hung thickly in the air._

"_No. I'm just saying that you need to be true to yourself. And when you first came here, you were all about honesty and you were the most upright guy I knew."_

"_You say it like it's a bad thing."_

_Chelsea shook her head. "No. It was the things that I loved about you. Because when I came here, I did nothing but lie and mess up constantly, but that's not who you were."_

"_That's not who you are."_

"_Nick, I begged you to destroy evidence, to betray everything that you believed in, and you did."_

"_I did it for you."_

"_Why?" demanded Chelsea._

"_Come on, Chelsea. You know why."_

"_Yeah, I do. But you know, a part of me wishes that you had just stuck to your guns and told me to buzz off."_

"_Oh, really? Really?" _

"_I used you, Nick, because I knew in the end you'd do whatever I wanted you to," she declared._

"_Wow. You claim that I'll do anything to be loved. And here you are doing anything not to be."_

"_That's not true."_

"_I did everything I could to protect you, keep you safe, to love you, and you're telling me that's a turnoff?"_

"_Because you don't stand up for yourself enough..."_

Willow rolled her eyes. "You go ahead and kill me for her, and she dumps you anyway because she didn't like that you violated all your 'morals' and 'ethics' for her."

"You were a pushover for that teeny tiny girl, and you were a pushover for me, bitch," Jensen whispered in Nick's ear.

"And for China Lee and those kids," added Willow.

"I don't regret what I did for Artemis and DeMarquette," said Nick. "I didn't give in to China Lee. I helped children who needed help."

"There's some truth to that," Willow admitted. The scene on the screen shifted.

_Now Nick and Chelsea were sitting in the Brady Pub, close together on one side of the booth with their arms wrapped around each other. China Lee was seated across from them and refusing to grant Nick an annulment of their Vegas marriage. It was before China Lee had gone to jail and left Artemis and DeMarquette without any kind of home._

_Nick leaned across the table and addressed China Lee. "You think this little stunt of yours is anything new? You think you're the first person to try and pull something like this? Think again, China Lee. Because I'm here to tell you you picked the wrong guy to mess with." _

_Beside Nick, Chelsea's eyes and grin were wide._

Nick couldn't take his eyes off of Chelsea. He hadn't been watching her at the time; all of his attention had been on China Lee. Now he saw how Chelsea had been rooting for him with every fiber of her being, completely on his side and reveling in seeing him stand up for himself.

"She loved me," he said, as if this was some sort of revelation, as if Chelsea hadn't told him plenty of times.

Willow made a gagging noise and gestured that Nick should keep watching. His younger self was still talking.

"_You know, it's funny. A couple of months ago this little stunt of yours might actually have worked. But I've been blackmailed twice in the last couple of months, and as fun as it was, I'm sick of this crap. I took enough of it from Willow and Mrs. Roberts to last me at least a couple lifetimes."_

"_Who the heck are they?" asked China Lee, annoyed._

"_Two lovely women who changed my life."_

"Thank you. Glad to be of service," said Willow.

"Shut up," said Nick.

"_But not like this one." Nick squeezed Chelsea's shoulders. "This is the girl I love. This is the girl I hope to spend the rest of my life with, and no money-grubbing opportunistic tramp from Vegas is going to get in the way of that. You wanna play hardball, China? I'm ready."_

"_Nice speech," said China Lee. "Props to whatever movie you ripped that off from. You almost had me running scared, but we both know it's all an act. I mean, look at you. Hands shaking, lips all aquiver. Why not make it easy on yourself? Give me what I want and I'll go away."_

"_And what would that be? Let me guess."_

"_Nothing unreasonable. Twenty-five grand ought to do it," said China Lee loftily._

"_What?" exploded Chelsea._

"_Twenty-five grand?" asked Nick, taken aback._

"_My half of the dough we won in Vegas. Pay up, or I'll have child services on this deadbeat dad like white on rice. Oh, and Nicky? Don't take too long. I'm not a patient woman." China Lee sauntered out of the Pub._

_Nick turned anxiously to Chelsea. "I know what you're thinking," he said, ready to explain once again that he'd had a concussion and he hadn't been in his right state of mind when he'd married China Lee and technically she had only approached him after he'd won the money. And he'd only had the concussion in the first place because he'd thrown himself over a bomb meant for Chelsea's cousin Sami which might have killed Sami's unborn twins..._

_Before he could say anything, though, Chelsea kissed him passionately._

"_What was that for?" asked Nick._

"_That was for the real Nick Fallon finally standing up for yourself. And I have to say, it was kind of hot."_

The picture faded again.

"What did you do with the fifty thousand dollars?" asked Willow.

"Gave it to Kate to pay Chelsea's tuition. So Chelsea wouldn't think it came from me and she wouldn't feel like she owed me anything. I told Chelsea I gave it all to charity."

Willow sighed. "I don't think that there was one time in my life that a man gave me anything without thinking I owed him twice as much. Let alone fifty grand."

"I'm sorry," murmured Nick, because he really always had felt sorry for Willow and the tough breaks that she'd had. "Why are you here?" he asked after a moment.

"Lying. Stealing. Blackmailing. Framing. Helping a rich guy steal another guy's kid. Setting peoples' homes on fire. You know the story."

"But you also wanted to make sure your brother went to school. You tried to support yourself working in my Aunt Maggie's restaurant. Everything was stacked against you from the beginning. You weren't like Trent Robbins or Jake Kositchek or Jensen. If you'd had any help..."

"I bit every hand that ever tried to feed me, Nick," said Willow. "When you wanted to help me, what did I do?"

It was Nick's turn to sigh. "I thought it was so simple then. You took help when it was offered and you got back on your feet. But when it was me, after everything that happened in prison… people did reach out to me and I didn't see it until Gabi was aiming a gun at me and it was too late. Almost too late. It would've been too late if it weren't for my cousin Julie and her particular brand of crazy."

"You're lucky," said Willow. "You went to prison when you needed a doctor more than a jail. You got raped over and over. You didn't get counseling or treatment for PTSD and you came to a world where your family side-eyed you for hurting Melanie instead of welcoming you home. You lost the ability to do the kind of work you loved without blackmailing your way in. You fell in love with a girl who was pregnant by your gay cousin so you couldn't avoid him until you got a grip on the difference between rape and homosexuality. Not only that, Kate and Sami decided that they owned Gabi by proxy and used her as an excuse to try to kill you. They forgot about how you paid for Chelsea's college or saved Allie and Johnny's lives before they were born and how maybe you deserved to have them do you a solid instead of pushing your head under the river. But you're still lucky because your crazy-ass cousin loved you enough to fake your death to keep you safe. You're lucky because your parents loved you enough to go along with it. I get that you don't know what your dad really feels about you and what he blames you for, but his ass has been there with you every damn day since you wound up in the Smith Center. Do you think my father would have done that for me? Do you think he was ever anywhere?"

"No," said Nick quietly. "Wait, the Smith Center. If I'm there, I'm not here. I'm not in hell."

"No. You're dreaming."

"No wonder you sound so rational."

"And here we were getting along so well."

"That might be my cue to wake up," said Nick.

_Wake up, _he told himself.

* * *

Nick opened his eyes and squinted until he could focus. His body ached like he'd been sick, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He tried to sit up, and found that he could.

Marie swiftly came to his side. "Good morning, sleepy head."

"Grandma," he breathed. He noticed that she was wearing Smith Center insignia. So she had managed to get herself hired to stay by his side during the lockdown after all.

He was lucky to have her.

"Thank you," he said as she handed him a glass of water and told him to drink it. "Not for the water. For everything. For being here for me. I know I haven't always seemed grateful."

She stroked his hair. "Where else would I be, Nick?"

"Someplace else. There's a whole world full of options that don't include baby-sitting your grown up, screwed up, grandson."

"You're no more screwed up than anyone else," said Marie mildly. "And even if you were, I'd love you."

"I love you, too."

"So what brought this on?"

"Ever have a dream where you kind of take stock of your life?"

"Sure," she said noncommittally. "And I hope that when you do, you never discount how much joy you give your parents and me just by being you. How much you always have."

He was lucky.

_**TBC.**_

**Auxiliary disclaimer: **_The dialog in the flashback to Trent's death came from episodes in summer 2008. The longer flashbacks at the end of this chapter came directly from the August 14, 2007, and August 24, 2007 episodes. _

_The theory that Trent won Melanie in a poker game came from my lovely friend CanuckDaysfan, author ID 738866 on this site. :) _


	16. Return of the Scientist

**Part 16: Return of the Scientist**

The first thing Nick noticed, when Chelsea burst into his room, was how beautiful she looked. She looked beautiful in the way someone could only look beautiful if you loved her and she loved you. All of that was in the past for Nick and Chelsea, of course, but it was hardly surprising that the vestiges of his dream carried those feelings with them.

The second thing noticed was that Chelsea looked like hell. He couldn't even concentrate on her lecture about how he should have told her or some other staff member as soon as he'd known he was ill. Oddly enough, he _did_ want to concentrate on the lecture. Chelsea in a fit of righteous indignation, and convinced that it was for someone else's own good, was a sight to see.

"She's got this, whatever it is," he told Marie when Chelsea left. "She's got it worse than I did."

"I think so, too," Marie said.

"Do you think there's any way we can get her to take a break, at least?"

"You know Chelsea," said Marie. "Does she like to stop when she's got an idea in her head?"

Nick didn't bother to answer the rhetorical question.

* * *

Hope glared at her closet. She never should have agreed with Aiden's plan to start their date as soon as they dropped Chase and Ciara off at their first day of school. It made what to wear infinitely more complicated. There just wasn't much overlap between "first date" wardrobe and "first day of school" wardrobe.

Aiden, of course, would take five minutes to put on a suit and he'd look perfect.

Ciara knocked at Hope's bedroom door. "Are you ready?" she asked. "We don't want to be late on the first day."

"I'll be there in a minute," said Hope. "You're lucky you get to wear a uniform."

"Wear your blue dress," Ciara suggested.

Hope looked at the blue dress. Ciara wasn't wrong, not that Ciara knew what she was looking for. "Thank you, Ciara," said Hope, and soon the two of them were on their way to Saint Luke's Academy.

"What made you pick this blue dress for me?" Hope asked as they drew close to the school.

"You said you wanted a uniform. My uniform is a blue dress," Ciara pointed out.

Oh. So much for Ciara having latent fashion savant genes.

"Besides," Ciara continued. "You look beautiful in that dress, Mommy."

"Thank you, Ciara." Hope caressed her daughter's dark hair, and Ciara looked up sharply.

"You forgot your wedding ring!"

"So I did," said Hope hoarsely, because while there would never be a good time to tell Ciara about divorcing Bo, this time was worse than most. It would be unconscionable to send Ciara off to the first day of school distracted and emotionally overloaded.

Ciara stopped and stared at Hope."You're divorcing Daddy, aren't you?"

Ciara didn't wait for an answer before she started to cry. She didn't have to. Hope knew it was all over her face.

"He's been gone for a very long time," said Hope as she hugged Ciara. "This doesn't make us love him any less or miss him any less. It doesn't make him any less your daddy. It just makes it official that we're here and he isn't."

Ciara nodded and swiped at her tears.

"Do you want to skip school today?"

"It's the first day," said Ciara. "I'd be behind all year." And she marched the rest of the way to school with hardly a look at Hope.

"Everything okay there?" asked Aiden quietly when he'd said his own goodbyes to Chase.

"She noticed that I wasn't wearing my ring. I wasn't going to tell her about the divorce yet, but she guessed and I didn't think it would be a good idea to lie."

Aiden winced. "Do you want to put this off?"

Part of her did. But a more practical part of her wanted to get the awkwardness of a first formal over with and knew perfectly well that she and Aiden might not be able to make their schedules coincide for a long time.

And a bigger part of her was looking forward to being able to look at and touch Aiden with impunity for the first time.

"No," she said. "Let's go."

It wasn't a surprise at all that Aiden's idea of a first date involved a limousine ride to Chicago and a very expensive restaurant for lunch.

She _was_ surprised that he had somehow found out about her fondness for Sondheim and had managed to purchase tickets to a production of _Company_.

It was all very nice, and she wished that she could have enjoyed it without thinking the whole time about what Bo would have done differently and what Bo would say if he knew.

* * *

The next time Nick saw Chelsea, she looked even worse. He knew that the illness was sweeping through the Smith Center with a vengeance; his grandmother had been properly put to work was barely able to spare a moment for him. The instructions he received from every direction were to make himself useful by staying out of the way since he had already come through the worse of the illness.

"You're okay?" said Chelsea, her face ashen beneath its flush.

"I am. You're not," Nick told her bluntly.

She gave him a sarcastic wave and started to leave his room.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. "Ow!" Nick shouted.

"What?" asked Chelsea. It was a mark of how tired she was that she didn't even sound suspicious.

"It's nothing. My shoulder," said Nick as piteously as possible. "Remember that last day when we were doing physical therapy, and I fell, and then I barely got out of bed while I was running a fever and it just got stiff. That's all."

Chelsea came to sit beside him. Nick noted with disapproval that her own joints cracked as she lowered herself to the bed. He answered her questions as neutrally as he could, obeyed her instructions, and leaned into her massage. Then he managed to shift their positions so that he was rubbing her back instead.

"I won't be able to get up if you keep doing that," said Chelsea. Her voice was painfully hoarse.

"Does your boss know how sick you are?"

"Everyone around here is sick. It's incredibly contagious," she said. "That's why they have the whole lockdown thing. They don't want there to be news stories about the great September Flu sweeping Washington DC that came out of a top secret rehab facility."

"You're not a doctor or a nurse. What do they have you doing, anyway? Why didn't they just send you home before the outbreak started?"

"I can still help out."

"Are they sure it's the flu?"

Chelsea started to shake her head, and then stopped as if the movement was more trouble that it was worth. "Not really. We just have to call it something."

"Have the doctors been… concerned that it's something else?"

"Why? Do you think it's something else?"

"Everyone's reaction seems like it's a little weird."

"Everything around here is a little weird," Chelsea pointed out. She slumped against Nick, and Nick's heart sped up with concern. Chelsea wouldn't be leaning on him like that if she didn't feel absolutely terrible.

"Okay," Nick conceded. He didn't trust his own judgment of what was weird and what was not anymore, but he trusted Chelsea's. He trusted Chelsea's judgment even if he was pretty sure that her fever was more out of control than his had ever been. "I know you were upset about something before this even happened," he added. "That probably made you more susceptible."

"I'm not going to talk about that, Nick," said Chelsea. She shoved herself free from the half-embrace she'd let herself slip into.

"Sorry. We won't talk about it. Just rest for another minute, please?"

"No rest for the wicked." Her eyes sparkled, but not quite enough, as she stood up.

She stayed upright for less than a second by Nick's count. He caught her before she hit the floor.

"I don't think you have a choice now, Chelsea," he told her as he laid her out on his bed. Her pulse was too fast and too thready, but present; her breathing was too labored, but also accounted for.

He reached for the call button. His hand stopped, as if of its own volition, halfway there.

Once upon a time, this kind of thing had always been clear to him. Naturally, when someone passed out from illness and exhaustion, one called a doctor.

Naturally, when a doctor gave you painkillers after you were shot trying to protect a teenage girl who had been pimped out by her father, you took them. You didn't expect them to drive you insane.

Naturally, when the pills did drive you insane, you willingly went to prison because you owed a debt to society. You didn't expect prison to be a series of rapes and beatings.

After getting out of prison, he'd had to scrap. He'd had to remember that no one was trustworthy. Aunt Maggie had loved him once; now she referred to him as a drug addict and worried about how his continued existence might trouble Melanie. Sami had expressed her undying gratitude once; now she shoved his head under the river and bragged about getting away with attempted murder. Abigail had been one of his best friends; now she didn't mind Sami murdering him if EJ was willing to give her a roll in the hay to shut her up. Gabi had reveled in his attempts to get her out from under Kate and Sami's collective thumb; then she had shot him out of concern that some day he would blackmail her, too.

He looked at Chelsea, her face contorted with pain, and it scared him.

Fear started to spiral. Maybe the doctors would kill Chelsea instead of curing her.

Maybe they wouldn't tell him what was going on and the not knowing would kill him.

Maybe his grandmother was on their side now and had changed her allegiances the way Aunt Maggie had.

Maybe whatever was bothering Chelsea that she wouldn't tell him about was a dangerous secret. Chelsea had always been good at getting herself into those, and someone might be waiting to see her vulnerable before taking revenge.

Maybe he should take Chelsea and run. Maybe there wasn't anyone else who wanted to help her the way he did.

Or maybe Jensen didn't get to take the ability to make a very obvious decision away from him.

He pushed the call button.

"It'll be okay, Chelsea," he told her. "Help is on the way. Everyone loves you here, and they're good at their jobs, so we know they'll take good care of you. Right?"

Chelsea mumbled something incoherent. "It'll be okay," he repeated.

Her eyes flickered open, bleary and confused. "Nick?"

"Right here."

"My Dad came to see me. He told me he has to stay undercover and he doesn't want Hope to know."

"Shit," muttered Nick. Well, he'd wanted to know what was bothering Chelsea. Somehow he hadn't expected _this_ to be it.

"I'm not supposed to tell. I'm not telling, am I?"

"You're doing fine," he told Chelsea. "You lie still and keep breathing. That's your only job right now."

"I like you," said Chelsea. "I always have."

"I like you, too."

Her eyes flickered closed again, and she didn't respond when two of her co-workers loaded her onto a gurney and swept her from the room with a few terse questions for Nick about what had happened.

* * *

When Ciara came home from school, Hope tried, without much success, to get her to talk about Bo. Ciara gave Hope a handful of rather wooden responses about wanting Hope to be happy and understanding that nothing had really changed. She then made it clear that the conversation was over and left Hope to brood.

Hope was glad for the distraction that came in the form of a phone call from Jessica. She was still angry with Jessica—and Joshua, and Aunt Marie, and above all Julie—for the stunt they had pulled in faking Nick's death. She had not made any attempt to see Jessica when she had taken Ciara and Allie to see Nick and Chelsea.

But right about now, any kind of phone call from anyone seemed better than continued silence.

"I called for a couple of reasons," said Jessica, once insincere pleasantries had been exchanged. "First, I wanted to apologize to you for letting you think that Nick was dead after I found out the truth."

"All right," said Hope, because she still wasn't in the mood to forgive and forget.

"And then," Jessica pressed on, "I wanted to make sure that you knew what's going on at the Smith Center."

"Is Chelsea okay?" Hope asked, her annoyance quickly replaced by fear.

"She's in serious condition, but she's stable," said Jessica, as if that was supposed to be good news.

"_What happened?"_ Hope demanded.

"There's some kind of contagious illness going around the Smith Center. They aren't letting anyone in or out to contain it, so it was almost a given that some of the staff were going to get it."

"Chelsea mentioned something about that when I went to see her," said Hope, slightly mollified. She didn't relish the idea of Chelsea being sick, but it was better than an attack by armed gunmen or a few other theories that had flitted through her mind.

"If it makes you feel any better, my mother got herself hired on a temporary basis so she could stay there during the lockdown. I get the impression that she did some pretty fast talking."

Hope raised an eyebrow at the mental image. "Good for Aunt Marie."

"I don't think she was supposed to tell me anything about what was going on, and I'm sure that I'm not supposed to pass this along to you."

Something inside of Hope softened and she took the peace offering for what it was. "How's Nick?" she asked.

"Already had it and recovered." Jessica paused, as if wondering whether she should say more. Hope waited her out. Most people, her cousin included, tended to fill silences if you let them stretch. "My mother says that Chelsea was wonderful when Nick was ill. It wasn't her job, but she came to check on and help Nick every chance she got."

"That doesn't surprise me," said Hope.

"Hope, I wasn't around when Nick and Chelsea were getting to know each other. I heard Nick's side of the story, and at the time I didn't have any reason to doubt him. I should have come to see him in person. I know that now, but that doesn't change the fact that I didn't."

"None of us who were here back then thought that there was any reason that Nick needed his parents."

"No. But, you were there. How serious were Chelsea and Nick about each other?"

Hope laughed. She hadn't quite expected the question. "They were very young. Chelsea, especially, was very young in a lot of ways. I think that they were are serious as they could be at that point in their lives."

"And for Chelsea that wasn't very serious?"

"I thought that if they lasted until Chelsea finished college, they would get married. And I thought that that was a very real possibility."

"So the relationship was… it was mutual?" Jessica asked hesitantly.

"Very much. Chelsea loved Nick. He was her first real love. It gutted her when she thought he was dead, even all these years later." Jessica could never be reminded of that too often. "Why do you ask?"

Jessica sighed. "Have you ever doubted your own perception of reality?"

"Jessica, Stefano DiMera put a computer chip in my brain to make me think that I was a princess who stole artwork for kicks and was in love with John Black," said Hope bluntly.

Jessica paused. "All right."

"You were saying?" Hope prompted.

"Nick had these ideas about Gabi that clearly had no basis in reality. He thought that they were going to live happily ever after. She was so desperate to get away from him that she shot him. I was concerned that his feelings for Chelsea might have been one-sided as well. He's not as much of a reliable source of information as I used to think he was."

It was a reasonable fear, and a sad one. "No," Hope confirmed again. "Nick loved Chelsea and Chelsea loved Nick and that was reality. They fought and they broke up and they had interest in other people. But there was never any question that she loved him. You just said yourself that she was trying to take care of him when she was sick, right? Even though it wasn't her job?"

"Yes," said Jessica quietly. "But my perception of reality was never anything to write home about either, was it? Where did Nick inherit the weak brain from in the first place?"

"Jessica!"

"I'm not asking for your sympathy. I'm not asking for you to pretend that it isn't true. I'm just asking for confirmation that when I look at Chelsea looking at Nick, I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing. It can be very hard to be objective about your own child even when you're right there and seeing everything for yourself."

Hope remembered how she'd misjudged the dynamic between Ciara and Chase more than once when she and Aiden had first been called upon to control their children. "That's true."

"I know you don't need this advice, Hope, but go see Shawn-Douglas every time you get a chance. If he and his family don't come to Salem, go see them. It's bad to wonder about your own judgment, but it's worse to go years without even seeing your child. No mother should ever be in the dark when her child is in danger just because her child might not tell her."

"You're absolutely right," Hope agreed.

And when she and Jessica were done talking, Hope searched her contacts and called Billie Reed. The universe wouldn't collapse if one more person knew the deep dark secret of the Smith Center.

* * *

Nick wondered whether anyone else found it as difficult as he did to find the right balance between being a pushover and being a bully. Years ago, Chelsea had complained that he never stood up for himself; months ago, half of Salem had wanted him dead because he'd threatened and stolen from everyone else.

At last, he determined that it didn't matter whether anyone else found it difficult. What mattered was that he did, and he knew he did, and he was smart enough to work his way around it.

Sitting quietly in his room as the doctors instructed to wait for news of Chelsea that might never come was not acceptable. That was being a pushover.

Storming into Chelsea's room and pinning down a nurse until she handed over Chelsea's medical records was illegal, and therefore not acceptable. That was being a psychopath.

Pestering all of the medical personnel for updates and finding out as much as he could about the virus- which seemed to be mutating into something far more severe than the version he'd had- was a happy medium.

The more he heard about the virus, the more worried he got. He had only come across a virus that behaved quite the way this one did once before, and that virus had nearly killed Chelsea's Aunt Kayla.

This thing wasn't natural. Nick was sure of it. His inquiries about Chelsea grew more and more frantic.

One of the physical therapists, Chelsea's closest colleague as far as Nick could tell, finally pointed out that information about Chelsea's condition had to be given to the person Chelsea had designated back when she'd first accepted her job. With a wink, the woman let it slip that the designee was Chelsea's mother.

Nick nodded to himself. He and Billie had always gotten along (they'd gotten along a little too well in Chelsea's opinion).

The last time he'd tried to make contact with the outside world without permission, he'd been confronted with a top-notch security system, a well trained staff, and a body that wouldn't cooperate. Now, the security system and the staff were both busy elsewhere and his body was basically functional, thanks in no small part to Chelsea.

Finding a phone was easy.

Billie's number, he found, had been stored away in his head years ago. He didn't try to remember things like phone numbers, but they always stuck with him. His brain might have its weaknesses, but it had its strengths, too.

"Billie Reed," she snapped irritably as soon as the phone connected.

Nick caught his breath. It was always strange to hear someone's voice after so many years. He felt like an entirely different person, and yet like the same person.

"Hello?" Billie tried, clearly ready to hang up.

"Billie." He forced the word out. "It's-"

"Nick! Are you still in that place? With Chelsea? How is she?"

Nick blinked. He wouldn't have to do much explaining, then. Not only did Billie know that he was alive, she knew where he was and that Chelsea was sick.

"They won't tell me," Nick exaggerated slightly. He'd gotten a few updates, but nothing like what he wanted. "They don't like to share that kind of information with the inmates."

"Damn it!" snapped Billie. "There's nothing you can do?"

"You're Chelsea's emergency contact," said Nick. "You can ask them things that I can't. You can ask them everything."

"Should I ask you what 'everything' is?" asked Billie. Nick knew that there was a reason he'd always liked her. He gave her the correct phone number and the name of Chelsea's friend who had made the suggestion in the first place.

And he gave her a few of his most pressing questions about the nature of the virus.

When Billie dutifully relayed the answers, Nick appropriated an abandoned computer terminal and set to work.

He knew that he could stop this thing.

He might be an inmate in the world's weirdest asylum, but he was still a scientist.

_**TBC**_


	17. Chelsea's Fever Dream

**Part 17: Chelsea's Fever Dream **

Nick had caught up on most of the Smith Center's documentation of the virus when strong hands grabbed him from behind.

He didn't bother to defend himself and he didn't give the orderly a chance to scold him for making everyone's life more difficult when they were in a crisis. He merely launched into a recitation of what had happened to Kayla Brady in 2006.

"Have you even thought of treating this like a bio-toxin with an antidote that can be formulated for specific individuals instead of a natural virus?" he asked. "Look, I know I'm a patient but I have a background in-"

"I know who you are," the orderly rumbled. Of course he did. That was how the Smith Center worked. "Come with me. They drafted your grandmother. Maybe they'll draft you, too."

The orderly dragged Nick through the wing where Chelsea was being treated. Nick managed to twist away for long enough to get a glimpse of Chelsea through the window. She was writhing in her sleep, obviously in the throes of some dream. He just hoped that it was less stressful than his own dreams had been when he'd been the one fighting off the bio-toxin.

* * *

Above all, it was hot.

The Horton Town Square was full of people pressed closely together, and Chelsea fought the urge to shove them away. She would have given anything for space and cool air. She hated the feeling of strangers' sweat mixing with her own. She hated the stench of fear.

She had no choice. None of them did. All of Salem was crowded into the Square and staring at the monitors that had been set up above the makeshift stage.

"Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!" intoned the emcee. "Let us select the tribute from Salem!"

Every year, to celebrate the Hunger Games, Salem was required to send one child or teenager to fight children and teenagers from other cities to the death on live television. Chelsea didn't know why; probably the DiMeras had come up with it. They were responsible for almost everything, after all.

Chelsea would never have admitted it, but deep down she was nervous. Fate always had a way of taking things away from her.

Beside Chelsea, Ciara bounced eagerly on her toes. It was the first year that Ciara was old enough to be eligible to have her name drawn as the tribute from Salem, but Ciara wasn't nervous. Chelsea felt a rush of love for her small sister. Ciara was the only real family she had.

"And the tribute from Salem shall be… Ciara Alice Brady!"

Ciara grinned fiendishly and began to strut forward. Chelsea's heart was in her throat. Ciara might think that she was invincible, but Chelsea knew better. Ciara had never known real danger or real loss. Chelsea had, and damned if Chelsea was going to let life do to Ciara what it had done to her.

"_I volunteer!" _Chelsea shouted. "_I volunteer as tribute!" _She pushed Ciara back and ran up to the stage herself.

"No!" shrieked Ciara. "They called me, not Chelsea!" But Hope clapped her hand over Ciara's mouth, and the protests ceased.

"That's the spirit!" said the emcee. "Presenting our volunteer tribute, Chelsea Benson Brady! Salem hasn't had a volunteer since, well, Julie Olsen." The emcee nodded at Julie Olson Williams, Salem's only living victor of the Hunger Games. "I'm sure Julie will make a fine mentor for you."

Julie smiled falsely. Chelsea didn't much care. Ciara was safe, and that was all that mattered. Chelsea's own impending death was meaningless in the face of that.

Chelsea didn't bother to meet with Julie to strategize. It was much more important to spend her last moments with Ciara.

"I'll never forgive you for this. I would have won," snapped Ciara as soon as Chelsea entered the room reserved for tributes to say goodbye to their families. "I'm good at strategy and alliances and stealing things and sneaking up on people. Plus, I'm little and people underestimate me. You, you're going to die in the first bloodbath."

"That's enough, Ciara," said Aiden quietly. Chelsea marveled again that Aiden had been so good to her. It had been one thing to accept Ciara, his new wife's child; it was quite another to be kind to his new wife's stepchild. It would have been within Hope's and Aiden's rights to turn Chelsea out into the street when Bo had left and Hope had remarried.

"I think you'll do great, Chelsea. I think you'll win," said Aiden's small son Chase. His face was gray and his hands were shaking. He obviously believed not a word of what he said, but Chelsea appreciated the effort.

"Thank you, Chase," said Chelsea.

"Thank _you_, Chelsea," said Aiden. "This kind of bravery- this kind of sacrifice- it's more than anyone has a right to expect from you."

"Just take care of Hope and Ciara," said Chelsea woodenly.

"I will. I promise. You don't need to worry about anything. Well, nothing other than those twelve other teenagers trying to murder you," Aiden rambled with a nervous half-laugh. He shook Chelsea's hand and turned Chelsea over to Hope.

Hope hugged Chelsea, and cried, and thanked her, and said that Bo would have been proud.

Chelsea knew that her father would never have let her go. He would have stopped her from volunteering, kidnapped her from the stage, or overthrown the whole government if he'd had to.

But Bo wasn't there. Chelsea was alone, and for all Hope's and Aiden's pretty words, no one would really miss her other than Ciara.

And Ciara turned her back and wouldn't watch as Julie Olson Williams and the emcee loaded Chelsea onto the train that would take her to the site of the Hunger Games.

* * *

Nick was pleased to learn that the Smith Center's own doctors and researchers had already realized that the bio-toxin wasn't natural. They thought they knew at whom it had been directed, although they weren't telling Nick. Not that Nick particularly cared. He wanted only two things. He wanted an end to the dying, and he wanted Chelsea to feel better as soon as possible.

The problem, it turned out, was that the longer the bio-toxin lingered in the Smith Center, the faster it mutated. At first, virtually the same antidote had worked on every patient. Now, each patient's body chemistry required a unique solution.

"The particular problem with Chelsea Brady," said one of the doctors after Nick had signed every non-disclosure and waiver form under the sun, "is that she donated part of her pancreas to her father years ago."

Nick nodded. He remembered that a little too well. He'd sat in the waiting room paralyzed with terror while Max and Stephanie begged him to concentrate on a card game to distract himself.

"The surgeon, in my humble opinion, did a terrible job."

Nick almost laughed. He wasn't sure that he'd ever heard anyone criticize Daniel Jonas before.

"There's scar tissue all around the remnants of the gland," the doctor continued. "It's not a problem for her most of the time, but something about the way this bio-toxin interacts with insulin is overloading Chelsea's system. Nothing we've used on anyone else is working for her. If this kills her, we can blame the arrogant ass who thought an experimental partial pancreas transplant was a good idea."

Nick had no problem with that.

He set to work as the doctor directed him.

* * *

A different arena was used for the Hunger Games each year. Sometimes it was a deserted city, or a beautiful beach, or an arctic tundra. All of those would have been fine with Chelsea. Those were acceptable places to die.

It was just her luck that when she was lowered into the arena, she was confronted with a desert.

The heat hit her like a stinging slap across the face. The Hunger Games were being held in the one place that was hotter than the Horton Town Square.

How could anything be hotter than that? Her skin crackled beneath the glare of the sun.

As always, there was a pile of supplies at the center of the arena. Chelsea sprinted toward it. She hadn't been trained to fight like some of the other tributes had been, but the heat was maddening enough to make her feel like she had a chance.

"_I'm little and people underestimate me," _Ciara had said. The same seemed to hold true for Chelsea. While Chelsea was among the eldest of the tributes, she was small and quick. No one saw her as enough of a threat to attack her right away, and she reached the top of the sand dune unencumbered. She snatched greedily at food, water, and weapons.

And then a hand closed around her ankle, threatening and demanding and ready to rip her open. Chelsea took hold of a spear and shoved back, hard.

He was a boy about her age- big and strong and almost too old to be a part of the Games. Even still, he lost his balance and fell from the dune, striking his head on a rock as he tumbled. Chelsea could tell that he was dead.

She didn't care. He was the sort who looked forward to the Games. He was the sort who liked killing and, worse, liked hurting. He would have tortured his prey before killing it if he had killed Chelsea before she had killed him. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did.

That night, Chelsea managed to burrow into a sand dune to hide herself from the other tributes. As she lay as still as she could, an overvoice flashed pictures of those who had been killed on the first day across the sky. There were six deaths altogether; nearly half of the tributes had not survived their first hour in the arena. The boy Chelsea had killed was the last to appear.

"Ford Decker," boomed the overvoice. "Kill credited to Chelsea Benson Brady."

"One down," she whispered to herself. "Six to go."

If she was here, she was going to try to win.

* * *

The rule in the lab was that everyone had to leave the room when his or her observations or experiments hit a breaking point.

"You don't have to sleep," the head researcher instructed, "but you will give your brain the opportunity to rest and come back sharper."

Nick despised the idea of leaving the lab when so little progress had been made on Chelsea's case, but he was slightly mollified when he crossed paths with Marie on his way back to his room. He hadn't seen her in days.

"I heard they're letting you work in the lab," she said as she hugged him hello. "Good for you."

"Just following your example," Nick told her. "If I have to be here anyway, I might as well get myself hired."

"How are things going in there?"

"Not as well as we'd like them to be going," Nick admitted. "How is Chelsea doing?"

The deep lines on Marie's face said it all. "Not as well as we'd like her to be doing. She's fighting, though. I can see it on her face. That young woman is a survivor."

"She always has been," Nick agreed.

* * *

On her second day in the desert, Chelsea acquired an ally in the form of a quiet boy not much older than Ciara. His name was Zack, and when Chelsea raised her spear to kill him she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would just as soon kill herself.

Zack rarely spoke, but he had a wise sensitivity that belied his age. He was the one who pointed out that they could get extra water from the cactuses that littered the landscape; he was the one who hid them successfully when two of the remaining tributes surprised them with a venomous snake in tow.

Chelsea squeezed Zack's hand like she would have squeezed Ciara's and told him that everything would be all right. They stalked the tributes who had attacked them for a day and a night. When the opportunity arose, Chelsea charged. She ran them through, first the boy and then the girl, with her spear. They were her first deliberate kills, and it was easier than she would ever have thought possible.

She turned the bodies over to look at their faces.

The desert swallowed up her scream.

They weren't teenaged tributes at all; they were Chelsea's parents. Not Bo and Billie, the absentee donors of DNA, but Chelsea's _real_ parents, the Bensons.

And Chelsea had killed them.

A memory came to her as if from another life.

_Abby and Chelsea had gone to school together for a number of years, but they didn't pay each other much attention until the year they turned fifteen. Abby was mad as hell that her parents and unborn baby brother had been murdered. Innocent that Abby was, the most rebellious thing she could think of doing to demonstrate her anger at the universe was making friends with Chelsea._

_Chelsea was mad as hell, too. The stress in her house was always thick enough to cut with a dull knife. The economy had taken a downturn- when wasn't the economy taking downturns?- and both of her parents had lost their jobs. The two of them acted like Chelsea was too stupid to know what was going on while they worried themselves sick. There was nothing Chelsea could do to help, and Chelsea hated feeling powerless. _

_When Chelsea felt powerless, she tried to outrun the feeling. She smoked, she drank, she snuck out, she cut class, she shoplifted. When she thought of it later, she realized that her own attempts at rebellion were just about as innocent as Abby's. The difference was that Abby admitted that she felt out of her element when she tried to be anything other than the goody two shoes her parents had raised. Chelsea was better at lying, most especially to herself._

_And so Chelsea and Abby egged each other on and had a fine old time being the two least badass teenage badasses in Salem. To Chelsea's pleasure, their dynamic was unchanged when Jack, Jennifer, and little JJ turned up alive. Abby's family was happy to embrace Chelsea and invite her to every picnic and movie night. Chelsea met all of Abby's parents' friends, most notably Billie Reed, who always looked at Chelsea with particular interest. _

_That all seemed hopelessly cloying to Chelsea. She and Abby kept sneaking out._

_Abby started getting grounded._

_Chelsea didn't get caught._

_One afternoon, Chelsea's mother announced that Jennifer had been so welcoming to Chelsea that the favor needed returning. The Bensons were to have a rare evening out at a nice restaurant and Chelsea was to make sure Abby came along. No excuses._

_When Chelsea turned up on the Deveraux front porch, Jennifer told her that Abby was grounded, as usual. Chelsea pleaded and wheedled, and eventually secured permission to bring Abby along. After all, Chelsea's parents would be there. What trouble could Abby and Chelsea get into if they were subject to parental supervision all night long?_

_As they climbed into the backseat of the car- like little kids, they weren't little kids- Chelsea whispered to Abby that they would find a way to ditch the parents as quickly as possible. _

_Abby nodded eagerly._

_Later, Chelsea sometimes wondered why Abby hadn't told Chelsea to appreciate her parents while she had them. Abby was given to that sort of moralizing, and she had lost her own parents a year before._

_But Abby said nothing of the kind, and Chelsea was mentally plotting her escape when the car swerved and knocked her thoughts out of her head._

_Abby and Chelsea both screamed._

_Chelsea couldn't sort out what happened first: the smell of blood, the sickening thud of metal on metal, or the realization that she was seeing a guard rail from an angle that it should not ever be seen._

_The terrible CD to which her father had decided to subject them never even skipped. It was still blaring as Chelsea blinked blearily and tried to make sense of her surroundings._

"_Mom?" she called. "Dad? Abby?"_

_None of them answered. All of them were gone._

_Chelsea's seatbelt locked her firmly in place, but she tentatively reached one hand in Abby's direction. "Abs?"_

_The slightest involuntary groan escaped Abby's lips. She, at least, was alive. "I'll get you out," Chelsea decided. "I'll get us all out."_

_Her own door was the least crushed, and after five or six clumsy attempts Chelsea managed to open it. She dragged Abby from the car after her and spread Abby out along the side of the road. Abby wasn't conscious, but she was breathing, and that reassured Chelsea._

_Later, Chelsea realized that she and Abby were very lucky that Abby hadn't suffered any neck or spinal injuries that could have been aggravated by Chelsea hauling her around like a sack of potatoes._

_She also wondered how she'd been able to move Abby at all when it seemed like every inch of her own body was bleeding._

_Chelsea leaned against the door and contemplated how she was going to get her parents out. She wasn't strong enough to drag them over the seat and out the back door. She wasn't strong enough to force open either of the crushed front doors. _

_She slid down the side of the car and blinked. When she was aware again, Billie was there and the paramedics were cutting her parents out of the car._

"_Take care of my daughter," Chelsea heard Mrs. Benson say to Billie before losing consciousness._

_The next thing Chelsea remembered was waking up in the hospital, orphaned and under Billie's impromptu guardianship._

_It was four months later that Chelsea learned that Billie was her biological mother._

_It was too much of a coincidence._

Chelsea looked at the woman in front of her. Her clothes were bloody and her face was contorted with pain.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Chelsea asked. "You never told me that I was adopted."

"It was in the adoption contract that you could never know," said Mrs. Benson hollowly. "That's not so unusual. Sometimes an adoption comes with the understanding that a biological relative will stay involved as an uncle or a grandmother. Yours came with the understanding that we would never tell you that I hadn't given birth to you."

"But didn't people realize that you hadn't been pregnant?"

"We didn't have any family. You know that. That may have been why we were chosen." A ghost of affection flickered across Mrs. Benson's too-pale face. "You were so perfect and beautiful, and we wanted to give you a home so badly. We would have agreed to just about anything. We switched neighborhoods. I switched jobs. It was easy enough to say that we just hadn't mentioned the pregnancy."

"But you knew. You knew that Billie was the one who gave birth to me and that she never wanted to give me up. You didn't just happen to tell her to take care of me while you were dying by the side of the road."

"We didn't know. Not until- not until very soon before the end. You must have noticed how much stress we were under. You must have noticed how we were letting you get away with running around after Max Brady and Patrick Lockhart."

"You didn't know about that."

"We thought we were about to lose you. We knew Bo and Billie would want you back."

"Was the accident really an accident? Was that the DiMeras thinking that I was just screwed up enough to ruin Bo's life so they got rid of you?"

"You were there. What do you think?"

Chelsea sat back on her heels in the hot desert sand and sighed. "It seemed real. How could they have made sure that the two of you died and Abby and I lived?" The answer came before the question had left her lips. "He could have paid off the paramedics. The doctors. He could have had them take care of Abby and me, but not you. He could have sent another car to make sure the impact of the crash was worse in the front seat than the back. That wouldn't be the weirdest thing Stefano DiMera ever did."

Tears filled Chelsea's eyes. She had often thought about the Bensons, but rarely spoken about them. "Did you sign your own death certificate the minute you adopted me? Did I kill you too, just by being born?"

Her mother didn't answer.

Chelsea kept crying.

* * *

When Nick's next forced break from the lab came around, Marie took him by the arm and led him to Chelsea's room. "I know you want to see her," said Marie unnecessarily.

The monitors all said that Chelsea's condition was unchanged, but Chelsea herself was whimpering in her sleep. One tear slid out from behind a closed eyelid.

Nick winced. Chelsea's body was sick, but her mind at least should have been at rest.

"Almost everyone seems to get fever dreams with this," said Marie quietly. "You did."

"I remember," said Nick. "I was so relieved to wake up and see you." Marie smiled tiredly at that, and Nick remembered again that he was very, very lucky. "How much does Chelsea's family know? I know Billie knew, somehow."

"I called your mother and your mother called Hope and Hope called Billie," Marie said. "I'm quite sure I violated the Smith Center's policies, but I'm not terribly concerned about being fired."

"Is Mom okay? She isn't too worried?"

"She's worried, but your father is with her." Nick bit his lip. Josh was _not_ happy when Jessica was worried. "She's not made of glass and neither are you," said Marie sternly.

"Is Billie going to come?"

"She is, but she can't come inside until the quarantine is lifted. Obviously."

"Is anyone from Salem coming?" In spite of the dire situation, Nick's heart sped up unpleasantly at the thought. Perhaps he could get himself discharged before Chelsea had any visitors who might want to murder him while they were in town. "Chelsea's Grandma Kate, and her cousin Sami- they don't like me very much."

"So I gathered months ago."

"They tried to kill me and Gabi fell on her sword for them," Nick said bitterly. "It scared me when I first saw Chelsea here."

"But there was nothing to be scared of, was there?"

"No," Nick admitted.

"I think Chelsea would be willing to bar her grandmother from the premises if it came to that, don't you?"

Nick couldn't resist reaching out one finger to touch a lock of Chelsea's sweaty dark hair. "She shouldn't have to."

"In any case, I haven't heard anything about Kate Roberts making plans to come here. Now, Sami, I've heard about and you don't need to worry about her."

"What happened?"

"She engaged in some sort of battle royale with her cheating husband. He was shot, she was suspected, she had a sudden urge to move to Hollywood. You are nowhere on her list of priorities."

The parallel between EJ and Sami and Nick and Gabi was a little too pointed. "Did EJ live?"

"The DiMeras whisked him away. He was not doing well. That's all I know. But it was a very good thing that your cousin Abigail was warned that Sami was on the warpath. She removed herself from the situation and Sami turned all of her energy on EJ instead of Abby."

Thoughts of Abby and EJ and Sami and Kate and Gabi twisted too quickly in Nick's mind. He forced himself to focus on Chelsea's face instead. He needed to help Chelsea. She was so very sick. None of Kate Roberts' overpriced cosmetics could have hid the unhealthy grayness of her skin.

To distract himself, Nick began a mental recitation of the ingredients in the last round of cosmetics he'd worked with. The ingredients weren't so unusual, really; it was a chemical process that made it the latest and greatest, a chemical process that was really only a few steps away from what they were trying to do with the anti-toxin…

"That's it!" he said aloud as a formula rearranged itself in his head, plainly as if someone had written it there.

He called goodbye to Marie over his shoulder and ran for the lab.

* * *

"Crying won't bring them back, you know," said EJ DiMera.

Chelsea didn't know where he'd come from. Perhaps he was one of the other tributes.

That's right, she was in the Hunger Games. She raised her spear and ran him through.

"I won't stay dead," said EJ. "My kind never do."

"I can't imagine what Abby was thinking, crawling into your bed," Chelsea snarled.

"It wasn't just my bed. There was quite a lovely time in the shower."

"_Shut up!_" snapped Chelsea. She raised her spear again.

"Don't you have more important things to worry about than your childhood chum's honor?"

"Nope," said Chelsea, and she brought the spear down hard.

"Only the good stay dead," EJ reiterated. "Your parents. Your… ally." And he cut his eyes to Zack.

As EJ's body vanished along with those of the Bensons, Chelsea looked hard at Zack. He was no longer her teenaged ally.

He was a little boy who had never had the chance to become a teenager. He was her brother. The memories came fast and thick.

_A good number of people who had barely survived an accident that had killed a loved one would have become timid, cautious drivers. They might have avoided the roads entirely._

_The opposite was true of Chelsea. _

_Left on her own (but for the somewhat-unwanted protection Billie insisted upon providing), Chelsea wanted nothing more than a car of her own. She had had no small crew of enablers. It was Patrick Lockhart who helped her win the car in a dance contest; it was Max who took the blame the first time Chelsea should have lost her licence for speeding in an unregistered vehicle. And it was Bo who listened to her entreaties that she just had to be allowed to drive on New Year's Eve, and couldn't he give her a temporary license, and couldn't she borrow his truck since she had, of course, destroyed her own car._

_A good number of people would have been cautious. They would have been moved by a newfound father's faith, eager to prove responsibility, and wise enough not to look down at the phone to call Abby while driving._

_She had at least had the brains to pull over and call Bo when she'd felt the bump._

_Bo, naively, had assured her that she must have hit a patch of ice or a snowbank. The car was undamaged._

_She later confided to Max that she might have hit a dog or a cat. "People shouldn't let their animals out," said Max blithely. "These things happen."_

_And then the word had come that Zack was dead and Bo's truck had been the cause._

_She had tried to run, asked Max to get her out of town, but Max wasn't having it. And then she was face to face with Bo._

_Bo got right to the point. "Chelsea, I want to know everything that happened when you took off in my truck, and don't lie to me this time."_

_She stuck to her lie even though the situation was far beyond hope. If she had realized that she had killed Zack, so had her detective father. "I already told you. I was driving, and I had an accident, and that's why I called."_

"_You said you hit something. A pothole, a bump."_

"_That's what I thought it was." She missed thinking that. She would miss thinking that for the rest of her life._

"_Come on, Chelsea, think! Damn it! Think! Did you hit Zack?"_

"_I don't know! I couldn't see. It was dark, and maybe it was a dog."_

"_No, Chelsea, it was not a dog! You hit my son! You killed Zack!"_

"_I couldn't have killed Zack!" Her protests were desperate. She couldn't convince herself, let alone Bo._

"_Oh, come on, Chelsea! You said you didn't know what you hit, and the cops have evidence it was my truck that killed my son! And we both know who was driving."_

"_I wouldn't have done that to Zack."_

_Bo had already moved past loathing her to loathing himself. "I shouldn't have signed that temporary license. What the hell was I thinking?"_

"_Dad, please."_

"_And then I hand you the keys to my car. How stupid could I be?!"_

"_I couldn't have done this. I couldn't have."_

"_Oh, Chelsea, stop it! Stop it! The tire tracks at the scene are from my truck. The broken parking light at the scene was from my truck! My truck is the one that killed my son, and you were driving it!"_

"_No! God, no! Dad, you have to believe me. I didn't mean to."_

"_I sat there and told you a car can be a deadly weapon, and then I gave you the keys. God. God. What did I do? What did I do? My God, what did I do? Zack, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Zack."_

"_Dad, he was my little brother. I wouldn't have done this. I loved him."_

_But Bo was crying, and he barely heard Chelsea._

"You have to kill me," said Zack, the Zack in the desert, the Zack who was older than Zack had ever been. "That's the way you win the Hunger Games."

"_The Hunger Games_ is a God damned book!" Chelsea shouted, suddenly remembering. "It's fiction. This is real."

"You killing me because you always drove like no one else in the world mattered was real," agreed Zack.

"You're here. But you're gone," Chelsea managed.

Zack shrugged.

"A dream, then," Chelsea realized. She dreamed of Zack often- not as often as she had five years ago, but often enough. "If this is my dream, I can make it stop."

She tried to will away the heat and the desert, but they stayed put.

"You have to kill me," Zack repeated.

"I don't," said Chelsea. "My dream." But even though she knew that she was dreaming, she couldn't stop her arm from raising the spear and running it through Zack. She couldn't stop the blood.

She couldn't stop one person after another from throwing themselves at her, forcing her to stab them. Some of them she vaguely recognized as distant cousins she had never met: Sonny Kiriakis or Theresa Donovan. Some of them were friends she'd lost along the way: Carmen and Sloan from the sorority were there. A few reveled far too much in being able to force her to raise the spear; Patrick Lockhart was the worst about that.

And the worst of all was Bo.

"We're alike, Kid, you and me. We run. You should have run."

"I did run," said Chelsea. "I ran to… I'm really…" She tried to remember where she really was, to remind herself that her body was asleep somewhere and there was no desert where she had to murder everyone she'd ever met. The only place that came to mind was the house where she'd lived with the Bensons. She remembered the address she had carefully learned to recite in preschool.

"Not that," she said to herself. There had been other places. She and Billie had rented rooms in the Lockhart house. There had been an apartment, and Bo and Hope's house, and the sorority house, and then she'd gone to London.

Yes. That was it. She was with Max in London. She tried to picture their bedroom.

"I'm in London and I can't hurt you from London," she told Bo.

"You killed my son, Kid. You hurt me every day."

Bo made her raise the spear.

She made herself run.

Running was different from how she remembered it. She had to thrash her legs, she had to…

She felt her legs tangle in the sheet.

Not London.

The Smith Center.

She had run here, and she'd been found all the same, and _oh shit_. She'd told Nick Bo's secret. She was sure of it.

* * *

"Nick?" she asked before she could even open her eyes.

"Right here," he said quickly. His hand was on her arm, worried, reassuring. He wasn't going to go to anyone about Bo. He cared about her too much; she could tell from that one touch.

But she had to ask. "You didn't do it, right?"

"Everything's fine," said another voice. One of the nurses. "We're going to sit you up so we can check you out, okay?"

"No. I have to talk to Nick," she objected. She could see him now. He looked tired, but so fucking happy that it almost made her happy, too.

"All you have to say to Nick is 'thank you,'" said the nurse. "He's the one who came up with the only antitoxin that worked on you."

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer:** _Obviously, the Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. As always, Ms. Chelsea Benson Brady and everything else Days of Our Lives belongs to Ken Corday, NBC, and Sony. The dialog from the aftermath of Zack's death aired in January 2006._

**Author's Note: **_In an earlier version of this fic, the attempts to cure Chelsea led to a reveal that Daniel Jonas is a con man, not a doctor, and Daniel's and Melanie's eventual incarceration. And Maggie wandering around berating herself for favoring them over her real family. Alas, my Jonas-hate was making the plot unwieldy and the fic too ficcy, so I was forced to content myself with one little potshot at Dan in this chapter. Hmph. _


	18. Thank You

**Part 18: Thank You**

According to the clock beside her bed, several days passed before Chelsea found herself awake, able to see to her own needs, and completely bored.

She had always hated hospitals. She didn't mind working in them, but she sure as hell minded being a patient. It brought back too many memories of her parents and Zack.

The last time she'd had an extended stay in the hospital, when she'd donated part of her pancreas to Bo, she'd developed a habit of leaving her bed to wander the halls. She'd been so persistent that Daniel Jonas had stopped trying to forbid her from moving. Instead, he'd told her that if she wasn't going to stay put, she at least had to take her IV with her. That had seemed reasonable enough at the time, but she'd discovered that she harbored something of a double standard when she learned that Bo, too, was forever in danger of ripping his stitches and suffering a relapse by getting up without permission. She'd screamed at him to stay in bed and he'd laughed at her nerve and hypocrisy.

"_It's funny how of all my kids, you're the most like me."_

She sighed heavily. She'd told Nick that Bo had come to see her. She wasn't going to wait a moment longer to make sure that Nick understood that that absolutely had to remain a secret for the safety of everyone involved. (And, if she were completely honest with herself, now that the cat was out of the bag anyway, she was looking forward to talking about it. Nick had always been good at talking things through. He listened better than anyone she had ever met.)

Chelsea unhooked her IV from its stand and and shoved her feet into the hospital-issued slippers that someone had thoughtfully left by her bed. She'd seen these kind of slippers a million times but had never tried them on. They turned out to be quite comfortable, which shouldn't have surprised her; the patients at the Smith Center expected the very best. Perhaps she would start wearing them as part of her uniform when she got back to work.

She padded down the hallway, cautiously at first, and then as quickly as she could manage. She passed colleagues as she trotted on her way, but she knew that if she didn't look afraid to be caught everyone would assume that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

"Nick!" she demanded as she flung open the door to his room. She was ready to explode all over him in a mix of fear and threats and relief and gratitude.

The room was empty.

"Nick?" she tried again, as if her eyes might have been deceiving her.

Her heart began to pound. _What if Nick was sick again? What if he had over-exerted himself playing research scientist? What if he hadn't been the one who had developed the antidote for her at all, and she had imagined that because she knew that, really, Nick was dead?_

"Get a grip, Chelsea," she muttered to herself. The room had every sign of being inhabited. Clothes and books that had obviously been chosen with Nick in mind (most Smith Center patients did not read the _European Journal of Human Genetics_ during their rehab) littered the room. Nick's file was still clipped beside the bed. The door hadn't been marked "vacant" or "to be cleaned."

_Who had time to do that during the lockdown? _her mind taunted mercilessly. _All anyone had time to do was save lives, not fill out paperwork or do housekeeping._

When she heard Nick's voice approaching the door, it took everything she had not to run to meet him and throw her arms around him.

It was good that she restrained herself, though, because Nick was not alone. With him was Kelly. Kelly was young and pretty and blonde and single and there were people who thought that she was a better occupational therapist than Chelsea.

Kelly smiled at Chelsea. "I stole your patient," she said cheerily. "You snooze, you lose." It was the kind of banter employees used around patients every single day. Today it made Chelsea want to throttle Kelly.

Kelly was too busy telling Nick what a fine job he'd done, and what a hero he was, to notice that if looks could kill she would have been dead several times over. And Nick, for his part, was beaming back at Kelly. He was accepting Kelly's compliments like he believed every word and flattering her in turn. His smile was just a little too wide to be smooth; his eyes were just a little too bright to be lying. He was genuinely happy, and that set off some kind of battle between affection and rage in Chelsea's chest.

"You need to keep stretching. You missed some appointments and we have to be extra careful with the cooldown, even if it's just about time to spring you from this place anyway," said Kelly, evidently remembering that there were aspects of her job that did not involve having a mutual admiration society with Chelsea's ex-boyfriend.

"I'll make sure he does them," said Chelsea hastily. "I know you must be overwhelmed, Kelly. My patients, your patients."

Kelly eyed Chelsea's IV bag suspiciously. "Are you up to that?"

"Yeah," said Chelsea, like it was no big deal. "Go."

Kelly went, but something about the quirk at the corner of her mouth annoyed Chelsea anew. It was so wonderful to provide entertainment value for her co-workers when she was barely off her deathbed and trying to keep her father off of his.

"Kelly seems nice," said Nick casually, beginning his series of stretches without being told.

"It doesn't bother you that she looks like Willow Stark?" asked Chelsea meanly. Kelly didn't look like Willow, really, other than being blonde and pretty, but Chelsea wasn't currently bothered about details.

"No, she doesn't," said Nick with a laugh.

Chelsea remembered how relieved she'd been the first time she'd heard Nick laugh after he'd come to the Smith Center. Four months ago, it had been a triumph to get him to talk. Guiltily, she set aside her reasons for coming to see Nick in the first place. "You seem happy," she told him.

He looked at her shyly out of the corner of his eye, almost as if he was the Nick she had known before he'd ever been to prison or frightened a woman so badly that she'd shot him. "I am."

"Any particular reason?" she asked with would-be casualness as she leaned over to correct his perfectly adequate form. Touching him felt reassuring.

Once upon a time, her Nick would have looked at her with a curious hope, knowing that she was flirting and afraid to admit it. This Nick gave her an answer that she knew was deadly sincere. "I actually got to be useful to someone else for the first time in years."

"I'm sure that's not true," said Chelsea, because she honestly couldn't imagine it.

"I think the entire population of Salem would be happy to tell you otherwise."

"The entire population of Salem isn't that bright."

"Can I watch when you say that to your Grandma Kate?"

"If you want," said Chelsea, mildly amused at the prospect. "We aren't close anymore, you know," she added almost defensively.

"I didn't know." Nick had stopped stretching, and Chelsea prompted him to continue, feeling that his whole body had tensed at the turn the conversation had taken.

"No. She tends to zero in on whoever is closest to her. That's been Will for a long time."

"So she's not… going to come visit now that you're feeling better."

Chelsea shook her head in the negative and herard Nick exhale a shaky breath.

"Were you worried about that?" she asked as gently as she could.

"She wants me dead, Chelsea." His voice was flat and emotionless and she hated herself for wiping the smile off of his face.

"Well, I don't. And even if I did, and even if I wanted to see her, I wouldn't bring her anywhere near here. This is a safe place for you." Nick nodded stiffly. "My mom wants to come, though."

"I figured."

"And Stephanie and Max."

Nick cocked his head at hearing Stephanie's and Max's names linked. "Are they together again?"

"Not as far as I know. I think it's just that when my mom talked to Max he decided he should be here and when Max talked to Steph, she decided she should be here. Is any of that a problem for you? Because I'll ban all three of them if that's what you need."

"Don't. They're your family and they love you. As long as it's not Kate or Sami." He paused, considering. "Or Victor."

"Okay." Chelsea stifled a sigh, remembering why she had come. "I'm not really close to any of them any more. But someone who really matters to me is my dad."

Nick turned to her sharply, and she knew in that moment that he wasn't going to play any games or pretend that he hadn't heard what she'd said when she'd first succumbed to the fever. "I know your dad took being a cop seriously. I know he had a lot to do with the ISA, too." To his credit, he turned to make sure that the door was closed and he and Chelsea were alone. "I know he wouldn't go undercover and stay away from Hope and Ciara unless he really thought it was the only way to keep them safe."

"Do you think I should tell Hope?"

"What would that help?" Chelsea raised an eyebrow. She couldn't get used to Nick preaching anything but honesty, although she was well aware that he sometimes practiced otherwise and always had. "I'm not saying you shouldn't," Nick added, correctly reading Chelsea's thoughts on her face. "I'm asking. Honestly. You don't have to answer for me, but you can answer for yourself."

"It might make Hope feel better," said Chelsea. "Sometimes not knowing is the worst thing."

"What do you think she would do differently if you told her?"

"Break it off with the Aiden guy for one thing," said Chelsea hastily. "Do you know him?"

"A little. Smart guy. Good father. Nice looking. Makes sense for Hope, actually."

Chelsea nodded. "If Hope knew I think she'd end it with Aiden and wait for my dad. Maybe look for him even though she knows it's incredibly dangerous and she might get killed."

"And Bo knows that, too, which is why he wants you to lie to her."

"It shouldn't be his decision to make. Not telling Ciara is one thing. Hope is an adult. She's supposed to be his partner. She should have all the information."

"All right," said Nick with a shrug. "Tell her."

"My Dad asked me not to. My Dad knows things I don't know. Maybe telling Hope could get her and Ciara killed."

"Or you," Nick added.

"Or me."

"We went to a lot of trouble to find the right antidote to keep you alive, you know. It would be a shame to waste it."

Chelsea felt a sudden urge to burst into tears. "If I didn't say it before, thank you."

Nick's eyes locked with hers. "You're welcome. My pleasure."

"It's weird. It feels like… it feels like I can tell just by breathing that you were the one who fixed me. Like something inside me has you- all the best parts of you- imprinted on it. Like getting a hug from you."

Nick stood up, still gazing fixedly at Chelsea, and pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered again, because there weren't any words to express what she actually felt.

* * *

Several days later, the Smith Center officially opened to visitors once again. Nick was in Chelsea's room (technically against the rules, but no one seemed inclined to stop them) when Billie stormed in, followed by Stephanie and Max.

There was a good deal of hugging, and a fair amount of crying, and Nick excused himself from the room as quickly as he could.

He wasn't sure why he didn't return to his own room right away, but every time he took a few steps in that direction he was confronted with an overwhelming urge to turn around.

Lingering in the halls was one thing the Smith Center always put a stop to, even if lingering in your therapist-slash-ex-girlfriend's room got a free pass, so he ducked into a stairway. The stairway was alarmed, of course, but he disarmed the alarm easily. He was quite familiar with the Smith Center's computer systems by now.

He sat for a few moments in the quiet, his mind wandering over dozens of memories of Billie and Stephanie and Max. They had all been important to him once. He remembered standing on the pier with Stephanie as she informed him in no uncertain terms that they were friends- not two people with friends in common. He remembered Billie telling him, with a sad sincerity, that she was afraid that the world would pound the decency out of him. He remembered a day that he and Max had stood face to face in a Las Vegas hotel room, both of them bloodied by the events of the night before, telling each other without words that they were going to fix the mess created by the ridiculous airline known as Touch the Sky.

A hand came down on Nick's shoulder and he wasn't in a Las Vegas suite or in Billie's living room or on the pier in Salem. Instead, he was face down in a cell where everything echoed, especially Jensen's hot breath in his ear.

Nick jumped and half fell down the flight of stairs before regaining his feet on the landing halfway to the basement. His heart pounded in his throat and he gained just enough awareness of his surroundings to realize that he could run.

"Nick, Buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

The voice rattled its way through him and he knew it couldn't be Jensen. He forced himself to turn around and face… Max. Of course it was Max. Max was currently making no move to chase Nick but also no move to back away. Instead, he sat on the step Nick had previously occupied and casually watched Nick as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was doing just what Nick knew that a trained professional would do when faced with an irrationally terrified patient on the verge of a panic attack.

"They taught you well," said Nick. His voice was shaky and he hated it. "Whoever in med school was in charge of teaching about how to handle crazy people."

"I didn't learn this there," Max said, his voice still perfectly casual. "You know about my childhood, right? I went, like, a year without talking. The only therapist that was really worth shit was Kimmie, but most of them knew this much."

"I was thinking about your dad the other day," Nick said, because the filters between his brain and his mouth hadn't returned even if he'd managed to make his voice and his hands stop shaking.

"You better mean Shawn Brady, because Trent was not my dad."

That was fair. "Trent, then. I had a dream about Trent."

"That's not a dream. That's a nightmare." Max sighed. "What was the old bastard up to?"

"He was in hell."

Max smiled a hard smile. "That sounds about right."

"It's really never bothered you that I killed him?"

"Nope." Max drew out the word theatrically. "I wish you hadn't scared the hell out of Melanie and I wish you hadn't had to end up in prison, but I seriously have zero issues with him getting killed before he could beat the shit out of Melanie like he used to do to me. It's a miracle it didn't happen sooner."

Nick nodded. He and Max had had this conversation before. "Sorry," Nick said, and he slowly climbed back up the stairs to sit next to Max. "I didn't mean to bring it up. I was just…" He shook his head.

"I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that," Max said. "I know what you've been through."

Of course he did. Kayla knew, so Stephanie knew, so Max knew. "So you know. What do you think?"

Max's expression flickered from perplexed to angry to concerned. "It pissed me off and I hated that it happened. What do you think I'd think?"

Nick didn't answer. He thought again of the dream, of Jake and Jensen and Trent pointing out that Max, the racecar driver and action hero who had a different girlfriend every six months, would never have let Jensen rape him.

"Are you asking if I think less of you?" This time Max did sound annoyed. "No. The answer is no, not ever, and anyone who would is not worth worrying about."

"I wonder what my dad thinks," Nick admitted. Josh took great pride in his military service. Josh had been a personal trainer and run gyms. Anyone would have expected Josh to have a son like Max rather than a son like Nick.

Max tapped Nick on the shoulder, this time careful to make sure Nick saw him before he connected. "I've got a great idea, then."

"Yeah?"

"Ask him."

Nick laughed. "Ask him."

"Are you gonna make me play the dead parent card? Not the sperm donor, the real guy. I wish I could talk to my Pop. You've still got yours. Ask him. I'm pretty sure of what he's going to say, but ask him."

"How do you know what he's going to say? You've never even met him."

"I've met _you_," said Max. "You came from somewhere."

It was all too weird. Nick and Max had been friends in the past; they'd even trusted one another with their lives from time to time. But it was a friendship that had grown out of having people they loved- primarily Chelsea- in common more than a friendship that had come from having compatible interests or personalities. If Nick hadn't been Abby's cousin or Chelsea's boyfriend, he couldn't fathom the circumstances that would have led Max to give him the time of day. He and Max certainly hadn't made a habit of sitting around having meaningful conversations (unless by "meaningful" you meant "how will we extract Chelsea from her latest crisis?").

"Why did you come in here?" Nick asked, abruptly changing the subject. "Were you looking for me?"

Max gestured in the general direction of Chelsea's room. "I thought the whole mother/daughter thing would go better without me."

Nick nodded, accepting that.

"One other thing," Max added. "If I don't get to talk to you alone again before I go, I wanted to thank you for saving Chelsea's life."

"It wasn't just me," said Nick hastily. "They have a whole team of-"

"Bullshit. I know what happened and I know you don't need anyone to tell you how special she is and what a big deal it is that's she's going to be okay."

"Yeah."

"So." Max hiked himself up against the wall and fixed Nick with a half-mocking, half-speculative glance. "Exactly how special have you been thinking Chelsea is lately?"

"You have nothing to worry about."

"That's not what I asked, is it?"

"But it's the answer you got." Nick could hear annoyance creeping into his tone. Kate or Sami or Chad would have taken the opportunity to regroup, knowing that the conversation had just become a battle. Max, instead, looked amused.

"Are you together?" Max tried.

"No," said Nick firmly. "Not now, not ever again. That was over a very long time ago. You know that."

"You did just save her life."

"I would have saved anyone's life that I could have. That doesn't mean I have to have sex with her. It's not like I'm Daniel Jonas."

Max swallowed a snicker. "I'm not sure why you're still mad at Daniel Jonas when you have no interest in Chelsea except as a friend." He paused. "You're going to admit that you're friends, right? Otherwise you were just lying on some random girl's hospital bed next to her when I got here, and that's kind of weird."

"I've always been kind of weird."

"Most of us are." Max stood up the rest of the way and offered his hand to Nick to pull him up, too. "Come on, let's go back. They'll miss us eventually."

They spent two more hours in Chelsea's room, telling stories until Chelsea's eyes started to close.

When Nick returned to his own room, he found two things that terrified him.

The first was a formal letter congratulating him on his graduation from the Smith Center and deeming him fit for release.

The second was his father.

_**TBC**_.


	19. Parents

**Part 19: Parents**

When you were a parent, your child's well-being had to come first. Josh knew that. For months, his life had revolved around Nick, and he didn't have a whisper of a regret about it. He and Jessica had come far too close to losing their only child. Actually losing him would have wrecked them both.

Josh had been elated when he'd seen the formal confirmation of the milestone they'd all known was coming: Nick's release from the Smith Center. Nick wouldn't be ready to jump into a full, independent life right away, but Josh was sure that coming home with his parents would be a positive thing for all of them. It wasn't even much of a stigma anymore, Josh mused. Most of his friends who had children Nick's age had watched their children move back home after a failed job or a failed marriage. Nick's situation was more dramatic, but then that was Nick.

The Hortons all had a dramatic flair. Josh had known that when he'd married one.

He expected a smile to light Nick's face when he saw the letter. Instead, Nick paled as if he might faint.

"Nicky?" said Josh quietly. (Nick had been the kind of kid who had never ordered his parents to stop with the childhood nicknames. Still, Josh and Jessica usually remembered to avoid the diminutive except in private.)

Nick didn't answer.

"That's supposed to be good news," Josh said. "A few months ago you were cracking computer codes and throwing yourself out windows to get away from here. Now that they're telling you to leave with their blessing, you've changed your mind?"

"It's just surprising," Nick said. He put the letter on top of a stack of books and magazines. "I hadn't really made plans to go anywhere else."

"You're coming home with us," said Josh, puzzled that Nick had considered any other option.

"For how long?"

"For as long as you want."

"Thank you."

"We're your parents, Nick. This isn't some kind of favor that you have to thank us for."

Nick stayed quiet, and Josh cringed inwardly. He'd thought that they'd moved beyond this phase. "Talk to me, Nick," said Josh. "What do you need?"

Nick turned around and closed the door. Evidently whatever he had to say was too important to be overheard. Josh got a flash of the old parental feeling he'd had periodically since Nick's birth: _don't let me screw this up_.

Nick sat bolt upright in the chair beside Josh, and Josh gestured for him to speak. "Are you ashamed of me?"

The question rocked Josh to his core. He had thought of a thousand things Nick might say. That hadn't been any of them. "I- I think you walk on water, Nick. I'm not ashamed of you. I never have been. I don't think I could be."

Nick was staring hard at the floor, and Josh didn't know whether touching him or not touching him would be worse. He wished that Jessica were beside him. She would have known what to do, and that was probably why Nick didn't feel the need to have this conversation with her.

Josh let his hand linger above Nick's shoulder and then pulled it back. "What would I be ashamed of?" he asked at last, when Nick didn't volunteer anything further.

Nick's head shot up, and Josh could see a sarcastic sneer threatening to drive the anguish off of his face. "Take your pick. Bipolar disorder. Prison. Blackmail. Scared my ex-wife so badly she shot me. Got myself raped."

Josh ticked off the points on his fingers. "The bipolar disorder is entirely a matter of genetics, so if I'm going to blame anyone I'm going to blame myself for not giving you better genes. Prison time was unfortunate, but not insurmountable, and in fact I was always proud of you for deciding to take responsibility for what you did. Blackmail is obviously something you will stop doing, but the temptation was understandable under the circumstances. Gabriela Hernandez's poor decisions are not your fault."

Nick barely seemed to be listening. That confirmed Josh's suspicion that the last point was the only one that really mattered. He kicked back his chair and knelt on the floor before Nick, forcing Nick to meet his eyes. "I want you to listen to me very carefully and I want you to hear this if you haven't heard anything else I've said. There is no such thing as getting yourself raped. If your cousin Hope hadn't killed the piece of scum who did this to you, I would have done it myself."

"That's what Chelsea said," said Nick weakly.

"I like Chelsea."

"Me too."

If they had been in the middle of any other conversation, Josh would have taken the opportunity to ask Nick exactly how much he liked Chelsea. But they weren't in the middle of any other conversation. They were in the middle of what might have been the most important conversation they'd ever had.

"Years ago, before your mother and I… well, before your mother and I. I got a call from a woman who was a friend. She was obviously distraught. I got to her as fast as I could. Her clothes were torn. She didn't want me to touch her. I had to beg her to let me call a doctor. This was a woman who was educated, successful, absolutely brilliant in her field. This woman was fearless, but in that moment she didn't- she wasn't herself. That's what this kind of crime does. It distorts the way you see reality. It makes you feel disgusting when the other person is the one who's disgusting. It makes you question your own judgment. If I didn't know that, I'd be upset that you'd even ask me whether I was ashamed of you, Nick."

"What happened to the man?" asked Nick.

"I knew him. He had been responsible for the death of someone close to me. I confronted him. I had a gun, but I couldn't bring myself to shoot him. When I put the gun down, he turned it on me. Then, his- well, my-"

"This might be easier if some of these people had names," suggested Nick dryly.

Josh sighed. "I know that your cousin Julie convinced your mother and your grandmother that you should know more about your family's dirty laundry."

"You don't agree?"

"If I'd agreed, I would have told you years ago. I never thought that this was anything you needed to know. You have a life to live, and I never wanted any of this garbage hanging over you. It has nothing to do with you. It happened to me, not to you, and I didn't want to think about it." He sighed again. "Do you know the name Kellam Chandler at all?"

Nick cocked his head in consideration. "No," he said.

"He was, well, technically he was my stepfather. He married my mother and they had a son. My half-brother, Todd. He died in a drunk driving accident before you were born, and that's why you never met him. My mother committed suicide and Kellam had more than a small role in that. Please don't ask me for more details right now."

Nick nodded, serious and concerned.

"I came to Salem in the first place because I wanted to find Kellam. And I found him, all right, strutting around like he owned the place. Everyone loved him. I was so angry that- well, if it hadn't been for your mother I might have done something stupid right away. But I met Jessica, and knowing her helped me build my life around something that wasn't anger. Then he raped my friend. That brought everything back to the surface. I left my friend's apartment and went over to his house with a gun. I confronted him about everything, my friend, my mother. But I didn't pull the trigger, and when I put down the gun he grabbed it. He would have shot me, but my friend knew where I was going. She'd called Todd and told him to get over to his father's house and stop me. He'd stood in the hall and listened and he started screaming at Kellam to tell him whether it was true. They struggled over the gun, and that's how Kellam died. Todd saved my life. Well, Marlena saved my life by sending Todd after me-"

"_Marlena_?" Nick injected, and Josh winced. He'd meant to protect Marlena's privacy, especially considering the disaster that was Nick's relationship with her grandson. "The woman was Will's grandmother?"

"You need to be discrete about this, Nick, just like you appreciate discretion when it comes to what Thomas Jensen did to you."

"Yeah, of course," said Nick, and Josh knew that he meant it. Then, hoarsely, Nick went on. "I didn't know you knew Jensen's name."

"Oh, you better believe I know it," Josh growled. "I put the gun down before I shot Kellam Chandler but I wouldn't have made that mistake twice. As horrified as I was when I saw Marlena that night, as out of my mind with rage as I was, it was a thousand times worse when I knew it happened to you because you are my child and I want more than anything in this world to protect you." He grabbed Nick and kissed him on the head. "I love you."

* * *

When you were a parent, your child's well-being had to come first. Billie knew that, and of course she had dropped everything to come see Chelsea when Chelsea had gotten sick.

Billie hadn't always been able to put Chelsea first, and she knew that, too. She knew that she would always be haunted by the years she had lost with Chelsea because she'd managed to hold a live child in her arms and believe her to be dead. Yes, the DiMeras had interfered, but that had never seemed like a valid excuse to Billie, and she knew that Chelsea had never quite believed that it could have happened if Billie had been paying any attention at all.

On the other hand, Billie had no one but herself to blame for the evening she had spent with a barely-legal Nick Fallon years ago. Chelsea had managed to forgive them both, but that meant that Billie and Chelsea had rarely talked about Nick. Chelsea had discussed her burgeoning romantic life with Hope instead, and while Billie had been grateful to Hope, it had still hurt.

It hurt dully now, too, as Billie watched Chelsea blink at her dreamily from the bed where short hours before she had lain curled up against Nick.

Any other parent could have asked what was going on now that Chelsea was reunited with her first love.

Billie couldn't.

"Go to sleep," she told Chelsea instead. "Sweet dreams."

"I've been sleeping for days," said Chelsea contrarily. "I'm tired of dreams. That fever gave me some really weird ones."

"Yeah?" asked Billie. "What about?"

Chelsea shrugged in the way she did when she was about to give a half-answer. "Family."

"Your parents? The Bensons?" guessed Billie. Chelsea had all but watched her adoptive parents die in front of her. She was never going to be free of those particular nightmares.

"Yeah." Chelsea sat up suddenly and patted the bed beside her, inviting Billie to come closer. "I realized- well, things were rough between us then."

"Of course they were. It was a terrible situation."

"And because it was a terrible situation there were things we didn't really discuss. Like whether you think my parents' accident was an accident."

Billie sucked in her breath. "Chels-"

Chelsea was not to be dissuaded. "Don't you think it's a little weird that Abby and I were fine, but they died? Don't you think it's a little weird that out of everyone on the planet who could have seen the accident and pulled over, it was you?"

"I do think that that's a little weird."

"Do you think my mom knew who you really were when she asked you to take care of me?"

"Bo and I looked into it at the time," Billie admitted. "We didn't find anything definitive, so we let it go because we couldn't change what happened in the past anyway. We could only focus on making sure that you had a chance for a bright future going forward."

"But what do you _think_?" asked Chelsea.

"I like to think that she knew," Billie said. "I like to think that she and your adoptive father had so much love to give a new baby that they didn't care what they had to do to bring you home. When they had to change jobs and move to a new neighborhood so they could claim that she'd been the one to give birth to you, they did. We know that much is true. They lied on their records and cut ties with the people who knew them right before you were born because they didn't want anyone to trace the adoption."

Chelsea nodded. "I didn't know that for sure, but I thought they might have."

"I like to think that they were good people who didn't know that it was the DiMeras pulling the strings, or why, until Stefano started to torture your father and me with those stupid hints that you were alive."

"They were good people," Chelsea said, and her eyes were suspiciously bright. "They were good parents to me."

"I like to think that they were also smart people who figured out what was going on. I like to think that when your mom asked me to look after you with her dying breath, she was giving me her blessing because that might give me the courage to make it just a little bit easier for you."

Tears spilled down Chelsea's cheeks. "Do you think Stefano arranged that accident because of me? Like he did with John and Belle to make Sami marry EJ? Do you think I killed them?"

"You didn't kill them," said Billie ferociously. Chelsea ignored her.

"That's one of the reasons Dad left Ciara and Hope, isn't it? It's always the DiMeras. I'm one of the reasons he hates them. I'm one of the reasons he would leave Hope and Ciara just for a chance at taking them down."

Billie had a few meager ISA contacts. Naturally, she had asked after Bo. She had found nothing. And yet, Chelsea seemed awfully certain of the circumstances regarding Bo's disappearance.

"Have you talked to your father?" Billie asked.

"How could I talk to my father?" asked Chelsea far too innocently.

Billie loved Chelsea, and as a result she knew that Chelsea was rarely innocent. "If you talk to him again, give him my love and tell him to stay safe." Billie rethought that. "Actually, slap him across the face first for scaring the hell out of you and Ciara and Shawn-D."

Chelsea met Billie's eyes, and the fire there was unmistakeable. "Consider it done, Mom."

Billie leaned over to kiss Chelsea's forehead. "And you stay safe, too. The last thing Bo would want would be for you to take a risk to protect him. I think he's still mad about the whole pancreatic transplant."

"Too many people needed him not to try," said Chelsea.

"Too many people need _you_ for you to do something reckless. Besides, I get the impression that this place just pulled a scientific miracle to put you back together again, and we shouldn't waste that."

Chelsea made a face. "Nick said the same thing."

"Nick's a smart guy," said Billie, hoping that that was a neutral enough statement.

"Sometimes," mused Chelsea.

"Has he done something that's not so smart?" asked Billie, assuming that she had been invited to pursue the topic after all.

"He says he's never going to… get romantically involved with anyone ever again."

Now _that_ was interesting. Not so much the vow- Billie had made many a similar vow herself after a bad breakup, and none of _her_ exes had ever shot her in the back- but the petulant expression on Chelsea's face, as if Nick's decision was an affront to Chelsea personally.

"People can have fulfilling lives without romantic relationships," said Billie blandly.

Chelsea glared out of the corner of her eye. "It's a waste. Nick is a good boyfriend. I would know."

There was nothing else to do but ask the dangerous, loaded question. "Are you interested in rekindling things with Nick?"

"Stupid idea, right? I'm probably just having feelings because I thought he died, and there was all this nostalgia, and then he took care of me when he didn't have to."

"If you're taking it as a challenge that he says he's never going to look at another woman ever again, then that's probably not very nice."

Chelsea opened her mouth to protest; Billie raised a hand to stop her.

"If you want to tell someone that you care for him, and you're honest, but you respect his choices, that's almost never a bad idea. Speaking of which," Billie stood up theatrically. "I love you, Chelsea."

"I love you, too, Mom."

* * *

When you were a parent, your child's well-being had to come first. Hope had known that for many years, since far before her late-in-life surprise Ciara had come barreling into the world. She reflected on the idea once again, though, when Billie called full of gratitude and the news that she had finally gotten to see Chelsea, who was feeling much better.

Each time that Hope had reached out to Chelsea after Nick's supposed death, she had felt a flash of annoyance that Bo wasn't around to check on his daughter—either of his daughters—himself. And at some level, little as she cared to admit it, that annoyance had fed her attraction to Aiden, who was also raising a child on his own.

There were many things to like about Aiden. She liked his fierce devotion to Chase. She liked his fiery competitiveness. She liked his generosity, and his intelligence, and his unflagging ability to make her laugh. She liked the way he focused his attention on her when they were talking, and the way he played with language when they talked, and the way he instinctively knew that he should charge Ciara for legal advice (only a dollar, of course) so that she would take him seriously.

And now that the awkwardness of having a physical relationship with someone who was not Bo was out of the way, she had a whole list of new things to like about Aiden, too. If most of those things happened to be body parts, she was a grown woman and it was allowed.

The one thing she didn't particularly like about Aiden was the distinct lack of information he had given her about Meredith's death. He was angry and afraid and he had moved Chase from city to city as if he were running from something. If she had been alone in the world, she would have let it slide. Her instincts screamed that Aiden was trustworthy, and her instincts were usually good.

But she was not alone in the world. She had Ciara to protect, and that meant using every tool at her disposal to make sure that she had hard evidence to back up her feelings about Aiden. That meant violating his trust and snooping into his past. That meant taking the chance that the betrayal revealed nothing but destroyed their new relationship.

That morning she called in a few favors, and by lunchtime she had a heavy envelope labeled with Aiden's initials. She shoved into her purse before calling Aiden and asking him to meet her in the park.

He beamed when he saw her, and her heart sank a little. It must have shown on her face, because his smile flickered. "Is this professional or personal?" he asked.

"Personal. Very, very personal."

"It sounds serious."

"It is." She removed the envelope from her purse. "I apologize for violating your trust, but I had to know that Ciara was safe around you. I had several background checks run on you."

He crossed his arms, all trace of the smile gone. "What did you find?"

"I don't know. I haven't opened it yet. I thought maybe you would want to tell me before I read it."

Aiden glanced around the park. "And you thought that this would be a good place to discuss my deepest, darkest secrets? No, wait, you were so afraid that I would murder you on the spot that you wanted to be sure there were lots of witnesses." He glanced at the service revolver barely concealed beneath her jacket. "The gun wasn't enough protection?"

She was only carrying the gun because she was working, and he knew it, so she responded with a raised eyebrow and nothing more. All things considered, she was actually surprised that he wasn't angrier.

"I didn't murder Chase's mother," he said. He nodded at the envelope. "You won't find anything in there that says I did."

"What will I find?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing I'm going to describe for you in a public park," he said with real distaste. "You're not too scared to come back to my condo with me?"

"I didn't ask you to meet me there because when we have time alone without the kids we usually use it for a very specific purpose."

A ghost of a smirk threatened to overtake Aiden's scowl, and that gave Hope an optimistic moment. "So you didn't want to give me the wrong idea. Thoughtful." He turned on his heel, and for a second she wasn't sure whether she should follow. Then he turned back and offered her his arm. "You're right. Let's do this."

They walked to his condo in virtual silence. She could tell by his face that he was preparing his argument and she was to be his judge and jury. Aiden wasn't the sort of person who would merely tell her what had happened. Aiden had to present.

Aiden launched into his explanation the instant they entered the condo.

"There's no way to sugarcoat it. Meredith and I were- well, unhappy wouldn't even begin to describe it. But we loved Chase, so we both worked hard to keep the marriage going. Maybe we shouldn't have, I don't know. We got in fights. The neighbors in Portland, and the second home in Puget Sound, they could tell you how we fought. Every day. Just constantly talking about divorce. You know, never with each other, always with a friend, a co-worker, anyone who'd listen. But it always came back to Chase. Neither one of us wanted to lose our son or break his heart by splitting up. You understand that all too well, I know."

"I do," Hope agreed, her heart pounding in sympathy and anticipation.

"So we stuck it out, although it became increasingly difficult. I guess we all find different ways to numb the pain. For Meredith, it was alcohol, which is why I rarely touch the stuff. I just- I remember how it affected her, and I just became intolerant of that kind of behavior in other people, you know, this. Myself too."

"Right," Hope encouraged. She knew this much of the story already.

"And then, at some point..." Aiden sighed heavily. "I'm not sure where, or why, although I can speculate why, of course, she had a gun. And occasionally when she was drinking, she would just make these threats. You know, she was gonna take Chase away. She was gonna use the gun on me. She was gonna use the gun on herself. The thing is, the gun was never loaded. Then, that night, it was."

Hope's hand drifted half-consciously to the gun at her own hip. _I can speculate why,_ he'd said. _Are you afraid I'm going to kill you?_ he'd said.

"We were on the sound that weekend," Aiden continued. "Chase was sleeping. So Meredith and I, we got into it. I don't remember what started it all. I do remember that the more we fought, the more she would be drinking and the angrier that made me. But, you know, she wouldn't stop. Just kept yelling at me and accused me of being a bad father, bad husband, bad person. Of course, the things I said to her were beyond cruel. It was ugly. To say that to a woman I once loved…" He trailed off, and Hope put her hand on his arm, waiting for him to regroup.

"She went into the bedroom. She came out. She had a gun. She started saying she was- she was gonna kill herself. This is something she had said before to me, but this time she started loading it in front of me. So I had to believe her. She raised the gun to her head, and I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I just said, 'Don't. You'll wake Chase.' That's what I said. She had a gun to her head, and I said, 'don't do it. You'll wake our son.' But the thing is, it stopped her. It stopped her because she loved our son. She did. She did, but she hated me more, because she put the gun back up to her head. Now, this time, I jumped up to grab the gun, but she pulled back. She pulled the trigger. She shot herself. Thank God Chase was a heavy sleeper. It was the sirens that woke him up. He was crying. It was like he already knew."

"Did he see her? Did he see his mom?"

"No. No, when the emergency crews got there, I was holding him. It's all I could do, is just hold him. Finally, my sister got there. She took him away, so then the police could interview me and... deal with Meredith's body. They let me go the next morning. There were no charges."

"How much does Chase remember about that night?" asked Hope. The story gave a whole new meaning to Aiden's protectiveness of Chase and his reluctance to let Hope speak to Chase quite as freely as Hope allowed Aiden to speak to Ciara.

"Very little," said Aiden. "We moved a couple times, so there was no one around to tell him."

"Has he asked any questions?"

"No. Never. I'm not sure if it's because he doesn't know the right questions to ask or he knows that the answers would be too hard for me to give. Maybe he's the brave one. Maybe he's the one protecting me all these years. He's such a good boy. I just don't know how I could let him down like that. I'm not gonna let that happen." Aiden shook off his musing and returned to his presentation. Hope was once again the judge and jury. "Look, I should've told you about all this when we first started getting serious. And I mean this, okay? If you want to walk away and not look back, I will not blame you."

"No. I'm not going anywhere."

Aiden nodded, and Hope knew him well enough now to know that that meant _thank you_.

"Now look at the information you had your friends pull on me and see if it matches up," Aiden instructed.

Hope did as he asked. The stories matched perfectly.

If she were going to be a suspicious sort, she would say that the stories matched _too_ perfectly.

"Well?" asked Aiden.

"The records say just what you told me," she confirmed.

Aiden was watching her closely. He heard her unsaid _but_, and she knew it. "I'm going to tell you again. If you want to end this thing we have going on right now, there won't be any trouble or blame or judgment."

"Why would I do that?" asked Hope, and internally reprimanded herself for sliding into the old habit of bantering with Aiden as if he were her opponent. "I know that these are terrible memories to carry around," she told him softly. "Thank you for sharing them."

"Thank you for listening. I haven't spoken to anyone about this since I spoke to the police."

"You and Chase aren't alone anymore. You don't have to deal with any of this on your own. It's not the same as what you and Chase went through, but you know Ciara and I know what it's like to have your family come to a very painful end. Ciara… she's had some traumas in the past. A few years ago there was a dirty cop who kidnapped her. She's like Chase, she barely remembers a thing. If Chase ever starts to remember or ask questions-"

"That isn't going to happen!" Aiden snapped.

"All right," Hope agreed quietly.

Her failure to push appeared to be Aiden's undoing. He stood up and walked across the room with his hand over his eyes.

"Aiden?" she prompted after a moment.

"I don't think there's any way around it," he told her, still not looking in her direction. "We should have had this conversation before. Or I should have stopped us from ever getting involved." He laughed without humor. "It's not as if either one of us intended it. It snuck up on us both."

"It did," Hope agreed.

"But I had to protect Chase," Aiden continued.

"I understand that. That was the only reason I ran the background check on you. I have to protect Ciara. I don't think Ciara is in any danger from you."

"She's not. God, Hope, no. She never has been. Neither are you."

"Then why are you so upset? I mean, I know why you're upset. But you're more wound up now than you were before you told me what was in that file. You've said it, I'm still here. For most people, that would feel like a relief."

"If my reaction doesn't satisfy you, the offer to leave is still on the table," Aiden told her. She had never heard anyone sound less like he was inviting her to leave in her life.

"You have to protect Chase. Protect him from what? Knowing how his mother died?"

"It's a hard thing for a kid to understand that his mother would choose dying over living to see him grow up."

"It's also a hard thing for a kid to move from place to place and have his father panic if he ever gets close to anyone," said Hope.

"He's my son and I had to take the best option I had. I- I hope that you've come to care for him and for me enough to think about what the best option for him is."

"Of course I will. Aiden, of course I will. You and I are secondary. Chase is a child, this has to be about Chase."

As soon as the words left her lips, she knew what Aiden hadn't told her. She knew why he was nervous, and she knew exactly what loophole he had found when he'd answered her question.

He still wasn't looking at her. He didn't know that she knew.

"I could stop right now," she told him. "But I don't think that's best for you or for me or for Chase. Do you really think that it is?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think that's the first lie you've told me today. Frankly, I'm impressed considering that you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You don't have to be, you know. I won't let anything happen to you or Chase."

"Your point, detective?" he asked.

"I asked you the wrong question, didn't I? I asked you what I would find in your records, and you told me exactly. What I should have asked was what really happened. What happened that would make you swear that Ciara and I aren't in any danger, but that Chase is. What happened that would explain how a woman who was so desperate to be with her son that she'd stay in a loveless marriage ended up dead on her living room floor with a gun in her hand. It wasn't you."

"No."

"And it wasn't Meredith."

"No."

"It was Chase."

And Aiden was silent.

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer**: _Some of the Hope/Aiden dialogue is taken directly from the November 12, 2014 episode of Days. _

**Note**: _Huh. Kind of fitting that this chapter came up on Father's Day, especially since it's yet another chapter that wasn't really supposed to exist in this form. It feels a bit forced to me but I posted anyway. _


	20. Puget Sound

**Part 20: Puget Sound**

Hope and Aiden had always had a way of talking in circles whether in flirtatious competition or deeply felt camaraderie.

The revelation that Chase had killed Meredith sent them down one of those circular paths, and for the first time in a long time Hope found herself not enjoying it. The pain was too deep and the tragedy too permanent. And as much as Hope sympathized with Aiden with every fiber of her being, his slide into self-righteous martyrdom was beyond annoying.

"You should have listened when I told you that you could walk away," he said for the thousandth time. "I never should have told you. This is impossible."

"It's very difficult, but it's not impossible," Hope attempted to soothe. "We can find a solution together."

"Except the only solution that's acceptable to me is to go on like we've been going on, and that's obviously not an acceptable solution to you. You're barely speaking to your father because he didn't get angry enough at your stepmother for covering up what really happened to Nick Fallon."

Hope snuffed out a flame of indignation at the fact that Aiden was right. She mentally resolved to call Doug and Julie and make sure that they were planning to return to Salem for Halloween, or at least for Thanksgiving.

"We have the same problem here," Aiden continued.

"When Julie lied to me, it was a betrayal. You didn't even know me when this happened."

"But you're still in the position of being an officer of the court and being sworn not to lie about a criminal act. You have an obligation to report this."

"That's the least of our worries," said Hope, and found that she meant it. "I'm more concerned about the people Meredith loved thinking she committed suicide when she didn't. Zack's death was the most horrible thing that I ever went through."

"I don't want to imagine it," Aiden agreed, and she took his hand, because Aiden imagining losing a child was bad and Hope remembering it was worse.

"One of the things that made it worse was not knowing exactly what happened because Billie lied to cover for Chelsea. I understand her motivation- I forgave her- but, God, it was an awful thing to do. Lying to a grieving mother. So I have to ask, where is Meredith's mother?"

"Her family is dead," said Aiden bluntly. "Both of her parents, all of her grandparents, her only aunt. She was an only child. That's why she was so wealthy and why Chase is so well-off now. There was no one to share the inheritance."

Hope nodded. She seemed to recall reading that when she'd skimmed the police reports. "Close friends? Anyone else who is tormented by the idea that she committed suicide?"

Aiden sighed heavily. "The only one who fits that description is her friend Bree, and I'm sorry, but my give-a-damn broke a long time ago when it comes to that woman. I'm not going to put Bree's peace of mind ahead of Chase's safety, and I'm sure that's what it would come down to."

Hope had crossed paths with Bree and didn't entirely doubt Aiden's judgment on the matter.

"What about… why do you hang onto the beach house? Why not sell it? You won't take Chase back no matter how many times he asks."

"Why not leave yourself some plausible deniability?" Aiden grumbled.

Wonderful. So there was evidence that hadn't been destroyed. The thought fled to the back of her mind when Aiden jumped up, suddenly energized. "You know what? It's time. If you still want to move forward, I will too. We'll go up to the house and… get it ready to be sold. Chase can see it. If there are any memories in Chase to be triggered, that will do it, and we'll do it in a controlled environment."

"_We_ will?" asked Hope, pleased at the inclusion.

"Unless you don't want to."

"I do," said Hope.

So they announced to Chase and Ciara that they would all be traveling to Puget Sound for the long Columbus Day weekend. Chase whooped with joy at being allowed to see the house one last time, and Ciara was more than a little interested to see what Chase thought was so wonderful about it.

* * *

Getting to see Chelsea had broken some sort of seal inside Bo.

Seeing Chelsea wasn't enough. He wanted to see Hope. He wanted to see Ciara. (And Shawn-D, too, of course, but Shawn-D was in the middle of the ocean with Belle and Claire. Sneaking up on Hope and Ciara would be difficult and dangerous. Sneaking up on Shawn-D and his family would have been murder-suicide.)

And so for the first time in years he made his way to Salem when Russo had him on a task nearby. (It must have been closely related to the DiMeras. Always the DiMeras. They would take them down this time and they'd do it for good. There was no other excuse for his missing so much of his Doodlebug's childhood. If he could promise Ciara that she would grow up to see a world where the DiMera family didn't threaten her every move, well, it would almost have been worth it.)

Then fate decided to punish Bo for taking such an enormous risk. He caught his first glimpse of his home only to see Hope and Ciara dragging suitcases to a waiting car where a man and a boy packed them away. It looked like a family vacation.

It looked like Hope and Ciara had found themselves a new family.

No wonder Fancy Face had sent that letter. She'd already moved on.

Bo waited until they were long gone and entered the house through the basement.

* * *

The trip to Puget Sound felt suspiciously like the mini-vacation that Hope and Aiden had told Ciara and Chase it was. Chase tore around showing Ciara every inch of the house and yard; Ciara, amazingly enough, was duly impressed. Hope took the two of them out for ice cream while Aiden purported to have to consult with a client on an emergency. When the three of them returned, Hope noticed that one wall looked a little worse for wear and that Aiden himself looked exhausted.

_The bloody clothes, _Hope guessed. He'd hidden Chase's blood-soaked clothes in the wall rather than try to dispose of them or burn them at the time.

After Chase and Ciara went to bed, Aiden drank a glass of wine in two gulps and asked Hope, "Plausible deniability or know beyond a shadow of a doubt?"

"I don't doubt you. But door number two."

"I thought so." However, before Aiden could move to show Hope whatever it was that he had hidden, there was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs. Chase appeared, looking very young.

"I had a dream," he said. "I was right there." He pointed. "I was playing with Mom's gun. She never let me touch it and I was so excited that she left it out. She tried to take it away from me, and I was mad because this was the first time I'd gotten to hold it and I thought we should take turns. And then…"

Chase started to cry, and Aiden gathered him into his arms.

There was no more plausible deniability.

There was also no more waiting for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

Bo's punching bag was still in the basement and he made excellent use of it. It wasn't that he blamed Hope for moving on; his mission had lasted far longer than expected and she hadn't wanted him to leave for the mission in the first place.

He was still beyond pissed off.

The only thing he could do now was give Hope his blessing because that was what adults did in situations like this.

He didn't have to like it, though.

Then he noticed the surveillance. The house was being watched, and closely. There was no way for him to exit unseen. He needed someone to create a diversion. Someone who might have a reason to come into the house even when Hope wasn't home.

He grabbed the burner phone and angrily punched in Chelsea's number. He didn't want to drag his daughter into this mess, but there was very little choice.

* * *

Chelsea irritably paced the length of Nick's former room. She didn't want to drag Nick into this mess, but there was very little choice. She needed to talk to someone, and only Nick and Billie knew her secret. Billie had returned to London; that left Nick.

That meant that she was going to pester Nick to help her figure out how to break her father out of his own home five minutes after he'd been released from the Smith Center.

"Chelsea?" She jumped when Nick's lanky figure appeared in the doorway.

"Are you all checked out?" she asked pleasantly as she slipped around him and closed the door. He raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"I'm officially a free man. My parents are waiting to take me to the apartment where they've been staying."

"Good," said Chelsea shakily. "Good."

"You already knew all that," Nick pointed out.

"Yeah, I did."

Nick leaned against the wall. "So what's wrong?" He glanced at the closed door and lowered his voice. "Is it your dad?"

No one had ever accused Nick Fallon of being stupid.

"He just called me," Chelsea whispered. "He just called me because he snuck into his house to see Hope and Ciara. They were gone and there's enough surveillance that he can't get out. He needs someone to create a distraction so it looks like there's someone there, so it won't be suspicious when he leaves."

"And that person has to be you?"

"Yes."

"You want to do this?"

"Yes," said Chelsea firmly. She didn't agree with every decision Bo had made, but she certainly wasn't going to refuse to help him.

"Okay," said Nick. "What can I do?"

"That's it? No asking me whether this is safe or whether I shouldn't let the professionals do it?"

"I learned a long time ago that asking those questions doesn't do any good with you." Chelsea rolled her eyes. "And maybe after all these years I've caught up with you. Sometimes you just have to do things even if they're scary or they don't quite follow the rules. The world's a complicated place."

Chelsea remembered a time when she would have given anything for Nick to have said that. At the same time, she had feared that a Nick who saw shades of gray would be a Nick who had lost himself. Now she had seen a Nick who had lost himself, and found himself, and grown up, and saved her, and…

She stared fixedly at Nick and took two steps forward. He didn't step back, and she thought she sensed his pulse quickening. That was enough caution, then.

Chelsea put her hands on Nick's face and kissed him with everything she had.

He did not kiss back.

Worse, he pushed her away.

"No," he said.

So Chelsea was now the sort of person who forced a kiss on an unwilling victim of sexual assault. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't be sorry," said Nick quickly. "It's not… I get that you're stressed out and we've been remembering a lot of things lately. We've never been around each other and not had any kind of romantic undertone before, at least not from my side we haven't."

"Mine either," she whispered.

"But it's like I told you a while ago. I'm not going down that road ever again, not with any woman."

"You will when you meet the right woman," said Chelsea.

"I won't," said Nick. "But never mind. The thing is how we're going to help your dad, not my love life."

"I have to explain why I would show up in Salem right now when I haven't been there in years. Why would I? My parents are gone. My brother is gone. Even Hope and Ciara are out of town. There's no reason for me to be there all of a sudden. It'll look suspicious."

"No," said Nick. "No, it won't."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because you won't be the one with a reason to go back. I will. I'll be in Salem to apologize to the people I hurt now that I'm out of the hospital, and you will be there in your professional capacity as my keeper."

Chelsea objected to the term "keeper." She also objected to the utter humiliation of working with Nick after she'd kissed him and he'd been completely uninterested.

But she couldn't object to the plan, because it was going to work.

_**TBC**_.

**Author's Note**: _I'm officially bored with this fic because I now cringe watching Hope and Aiden on the show, knowing that their story is going to end in a way that will at best be sad and at worst be infuriating for me. And a year has been long enough for me to get over the infuriating factor with Nick's death. (This show does infuriate me when it isn't boring me…)_

_That said, I will finish. Three more chapters I think._


	21. Apology Tour

**Part 21: Apology Tour**

For what seemed like an eternity, Nick sat quietly and watched Chelsea put their smokescreen in place. She called Hope and asked for permission to stay at the house, which Hope easily granted. She called her Aunt Kayla to ask if there would be time to meet for lunch. ("I'm just saying it so Kayla will mention to people that we're coming," she whispered aside to Nick. "I won't leave you alone for one second while we're there. And you definitely don't have to have lunch or any other meal with anyone.")

Then it got worse. Chelsea called Abby and told her that Nick would like to see her in person and apologize. Even from across the room, listening through a rough cell phone connection, Nick heard Abby's shocked intake of breath and her hesitation before she agreed.

Then it got even worse. Chelsea made a string of phone calls to the Women's Correctional Facility as well as to her Uncle Roman (in case strings needed pulling) to get permission for Nick to see Gabi. Gabi, through the chain of guards and administrators and case workers, agreed in record time that she would see Nick. Nick felt like more than a bit of a coward for being disappointed that she had.

Then it got worst of all when Chelsea called Will. She informed Will that she was warning him about Nick's plans so that he didn't hear about their visit elsewhere and worry. At Nick's request, Chelsea told Will that Nick would not include Will and Sonny on his apology tour unless Will and Sonny wanted to be included. Will very distinctly agreed that the best way for Nick to make amends would be to stay the hell away. Chelsea assured Will that they would not seek him out, but would be visiting Abigail and Gabi and would be staying in Hope's house.

Their plans made, it took Chelsea only a moment to purchase airline tickets and print boarding passes.

There was a certain symmetry to that that Nick liked, at least. Their romance had begun in earnest when they'd flown to Canada together to help Shawn-D and his family many years ago. Now they would have one last family rescue mission just as their romantic connection was well and truly severed forever.

Not that Nick hadn't enjoyed the kiss in his room at the Smith Center.

Because he had.

He and Chelsea had had plenty of problems as a young couple in love, but they'd never had a problem with kissing. The kissing had always been great.

And Chelsea was beautiful. There was never going to be a time when he didn't think Chelsea was beautiful.

On that flight to Canada, he'd been crazed with nerves because he'd been so attracted to Chelsea and so afraid that spending hours in her presence would give her an opportunity to realize that he'd had sex with her mother.

The whole thing had culminated in him screaming, for the whole plane to hear, that Chelsea should shut up about his (lack of) virginity.

It was a miracle that they'd ever made it to Canada.

It was also a miracle that Chelsea had ever forgiven him for the little matter of his one night stand with Billie.

Now he needed one more miracle to help him survive the next 48 hours.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed when Chelsea announced that they were going to spend the whole flight making plans. A distraction would be good, but making plans didn't exactly count as a distraction. If Chelsea wanted to discuss in depth what Nick was going to say to Abigail, or Gabi, or God forbid Will if Will changed his mind and wanted to talk, this plane ride would be even more insufferable than the infamous virginity plane ride.

Chelsea grabbed Nick's hand as the plane climbed higher in the sky. "The first thing we need to decide," she said, twisting their joined hands so that he was looking at her perfectly manicured nails, "is what color I should paint my nails tonight."

"They look perfect now," he told her. He decided not to think about how they had used to feel running through his hair or down his back. At least, he wasn't going to think about that very much.

"That is not helpful, Nicholas," she said primly. She pulled a bag of nail polish from the purse tucked beneath the seat in front of her.

"Are you even allowed to have those on a plane?" he asked.

"Still not helpful." She dumped them in his lap. "Tell me what the gold one's called, again?"

Reluctantly, Nick picked it up to look. He couldn't resist a surprised laugh. "Bond, Ionic Bond," he read.

"The silver?"

"Asteroid."

"Red?"

"Atom and Eve."

"Purple?"

"Big Bang. Chelsea, this crap sounds like I named it."

"I knew there was a reason I liked it," said Chelsea. "What's the green one called?"

"Mr. Positivity."

All of a sudden, Chelsea's cheshire smile was bittersweet. "I know you aren't going to be him again, not all the time. But I know that you can be him sometimes, like when you came up with this idea. So thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, and it felt like _I love you_, which was inconvenient and inappropriate and otherwise just sucked.

Chelsea, willfully ignorant of anything that might be going on in Nick's head, threw the nail polish back into her bag and withdrew a magazine instead. She flipped it open, too quickly, to a quiz.

"We're not doing this again," he told her.

"It's been almost ten years," she said. "We can take Cosmo quizzes on a plane once every ten years."

"We have to come back and do this again in 2024?" he asked.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. "This quiz is called 'what color is your inner fire?'"

Nick sighed, resigned to the fact that he was not going to win this battle.

"What color looks best on you?" Chelsea began.

"Black," Nick said. He might have graduated from the Smith Center's program, but he was returning to Salem where he would always be a villain.

"You need to take this seriously," said Chelsea.

"I am!"

"Everyone knows the answer is blue. It brings out your eyes."

"No one needs to see my eyes."

"That's a waste," said Chelsea with a shrug.

She was still flirting with him. He couldn't believe it.

"Okay," Chelsea agreed. "I'll give you this one. Black it is. You look good in most colors anyway. Once you outgrew trying to wear those weird orange plaids and whatever."

"Don't remind me of that."

"It's seared into my memory," said Chelsea sweetly. "You don't get to escape. Moving on. You have a big work or school test due tomorrow but haven't begun studying. What do you do?'"

"Never would have happened," said Nick.

"Not even if your girlfriend insisted that you stay out all night hiding a hairbrush or staking out a rapist's frat house?"

"Skip studying because I probably know it anyway."

"That's probably true, but the answer that they have as an option is 'skip studying and pray you'll do okay.' We'll put that. Moving on. Is your dream job doctor, lawyer, politician, painter, singer, or circus performer?"

"I think I have the most chance of getting hired as a circus performer."

"That's not what the question asked."

"That's what all jobs are, really."

"An interesting philosophical position," Chelsea mused. "All right. How much time do you spend watching TV each week? There's no option for you've been banned from all media of any kind for months, so we'll put the lowest one. What Michael Jackson song do you enjoy most? And you can't say Billie Jean because that's creepy to me."

"_Bad_." That was obvious. _Smooth Criminal_ was too on the nose.

"Solid choice. If you could pick a tree to climb, which one would it be?"

Nick studied the pictures. All of the trees were beautiful.

There was one with a gnarled trunk that would be easy to climb; he might have picked that when he was younger. Now, he wished for more of a challenge. He could survive anything.

There was one that was completely isolated. He would have chosen that a few months before. That didn't seem right, either.

There was one that was offbeat and quirky, and he nearly chose that one.

But the fourth was covered in orange autumn leaves. It was redefining itself to weather a new season and would come back stronger the next year. "That one," he told Chelsea.

"I would have picked it, too," she told him quietly. "It reminds me of the beginning of a school year. Where there was always a new chance to be something more than what you were before."

He nodded stiffly.

"Last one," said Chelsea. "What scares you? Spiders, snakes, heights, or water?"

"Those are all irrational fears."

"Snakes, then," said Chelsea. "The metaphorical kind."

"Good call," Nick agreed.

Chelsea took a moment to do the calculations, and he noticed that her breathing changed just a little as she finished.

"What?"

"Your inner fire is yellow," she read. "You are an explorer, who likes to try a little of everything in life. Not always up to testing out new things first, you're more likely to get recommendations from those you trust before adventuring out into the world. You have a passion for knowledge, and are likely to be an avid reader. You tend to like to spend time with your friends and family, and any new adventure you go on will be with someone you care about."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"It's not wrong," he admitted.

"Good," she told him.

And that was how Nick survived his trip back to Salem.

* * *

They took a cab from the airport to Hope's house. Hope had given Chelsea a code to open the garage door and another code to enter the house from the garage.

Nick and Chelsea stomped around turning on lights and opening doors for half an hour before they drove Hope's car to the prison.

Nick didn't see any sign of Bo. He didn't know whether Chelsea did. He didn't ask. If they wanted him to know, they would tell him.

Chelsea had no way of making Nick forget his anxiety as they approached the prison. For one thing, she was driving and didn't have her hands free to distract him with nail polish and terrible magazines.

For another, this was _Salem_, and this was _prison_, and this was _Gabi_. There were too many reasons that Nick felt ready to throw up for anyone to distract him.

He briefly wondered if Bo had stowed away in the trunk of the car. Escaping a tail by sneaking into prison seemed like an interesting plan.

(The guards did, of course, check to see that the trunk was empty when the car approached the prison gates.)

Chelsea and Nick were greeted by Roman and Rafe. Roman hugged Chelsea affectionately. Rafe glared silently at Nick and trailed his fingers over the gun at his hip.

Chelsea did all of the talking until the guard demanded that Nick, as the actual visitor, answer for himself. Chelsea trailed her hand over his back as she stepped away, and the look of utter disgust that Rafe sent in their direction made Nick want to turn around and run.

He almost took a step toward the door before he realized that Chelsea was glowering back at Rafe.

Rafe wasn't wrong; Nick knew that. Rafe had every right to hold a grudge until eternity against his little sister's ex-husband. (Nick didn't have sisters, but he knew that that was a rule. If Shawn-Douglas had been there, no doubt he would have been glaring at Nick, too, and taking Chelsea outside for a serious conversation about her poor taste in crushes.)

Even knowing all of that, though, the idea that Chelsea wanted to defend him made him remember that he was here to protect _her_. This was a diversion. The conversation with Gabi would be real because Gabi deserved that. Otherwise, Nick was an actor playing a part so that no one would be suspicious of Chelsea's reason for appearing in Salem.

When one of the guards patted him down, he didn't snap a neutral mask over his face the way he had learned to do when he had been the one in prison. Instead, he smiled uncomfortably like he might have done before his life had gone to hell along with Trent Robbins.

Roman raised an interested eyebrow. Chelsea nodded encouragingly. Rafe continued to glare, and then submitted to his own groping. It appeared that Rafe would be accompanying Nick.

Nick didn't object. If that was what Gabi wanted, that was what Gabi got.

His head spun and his hands went numb when he saw her behind the glass in an orange jumpsuit. He had wanted so badly to protect her, once, and now here she was in the worst place that he had ever been.

"Are you all right?" he asked hoarsely.

Gabi was pale and shaking. "I think I should be asking you that."

"But I asked you," he said, and the feeling was still there, the urge to protect. He got as close to the glass as he dared, not wanting to be reprimanded or removed by the guards. "I don't see any bruises on you, but they don't always leave bruises."

"I'm okay," she said. "What happened to you hasn't happened to me."

"But if it did, you'd tell your brother, right?" Suddenly Nick was grateful for Rafe's glare. "You'd go to him right away?"

"Yes," said Gabi, and Nick knew from her tone that she'd had this conversation before.

Nick might have been imagining it, but he thought that Rafe looked slightly mollified. Very, very slightly.

"Good," said Nick. "Because you're really lucky to have people who care about you checking up on you."

"Am I supposed to feel bad for you because you didn't?"

"You're supposed to feel bad for me because I was too stupid to let them. Or ask for them. Hiding doesn't help."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"You decided to shoot me because you didn't want to ask anyone else to help keep me away from you and Ari. You didn't even start with asking me to stay away from you and Ari," said Nick. He hadn't known how much that had bothered him until he said it out loud.

"I didn't think anyone could help," said Gabi. "I thought you would just outsmart everyone else. You're kind of a genius, you know."

"I'm not," said Nick. "If I were, I never would have ended up where I am."

"Where is that?"

"Talking to my ex-wife about why she tried to kill me."

"You came here to ask me that?"

"I came here to apologize."

Gabi gestured that he should go ahead.

"I can't apologize until I'm sure of what I'm apologizing for."

Rafe snorted audibly. Gabi's expression of disbelief was only slightly more polite.

Fine.

Nick could do this.

"I'm sorry that I pushed you to formalize a custody agreement when the informal agreement was giving you and Will and Ari everything any of you wanted."

Something at the edge of Gabi's eyes softened.

"I'm sorry that I said hateful and bigoted things to your child's father, especially knowing how much you love him."

Gabi raised an eyebrow. "Did you say that to Will?"

"Will doesn't want to talk to me, and I'm doing him the favor of staying away. It's not about me, it's about him, right?"

"Go on," said Gabi.

"I apologize for threatening to blackmail the people you love, because when I hurt them, I hurt you."

"And also because you shouldn't blackmail people at all?" asked Gabi.

Nick almost laughed. For the moment he was willing to ignore the fact that Gabi had always been delighted and grateful when he'd blackmailed on her behalf. "That too. And I'm sorry that I wasn't honest with you to begin with, before we got married. I'm sorry I told you that that lie of omission meant that I couldn't have loved you. Because I did love you. As messed up as I was, loving you was real, and that I said otherwise once shouldn't make you feel like less than what you are."

"Are you with _her_ now?" asked Gabi.

In the moment, Nick didn't know what she meant, and it must have been clear from his face, because Gabi explained without prompting.

"Your ex-girlfriend who set this up. Are you back with her?"

"No."

"Do you want to be?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because the last woman I was involved with shot me in the back!" Nick snapped. "And I'm not even speaking metaphorically! I might be slow on the uptake, but I did take the hint when you decided to kill me because you didn't think there was any other way to get rid of me."

"I'm sorry," said Gabi. "I accept your apology, and I'm sorry I shot you."

"It's all right," Nick said begrudgingly. "I accept your apology. No permanent damage done."

"I'm really glad I'm a lousy shot."

"You did hit me three times."

"It was point blank range, though. Shouldn't you be dead?"

"I don't know," said Nick.

Gabi looked sad. "And I'm sorry that we were so toxic together that we can't ever be friends."

"Me too," Nick said. "If there's some kind of parole hearing that I can speak at to get you back to Ari sooner, I will. Otherwise, I'll be as far out of your way as I can."

"How long are you staying in Salem?"

"A few days." A humorless smile twisted the corner of his lip. "Salem and I don't mix very well. I wish we did. It's my family's home, but it can't be mine."

"Funny how home never ends up being what you think it was supposed to be," said Gabi, and the guard signaled that their time was up.

* * *

Nick didn't have the energy to say anything on the drive away from the prison, and when he asked Chelsea to stop talking and just turn on the radio, she acquiesced. His skin crawled for miles and miles after the prison vanished from their rearview mirror.

They stopped at Hope's house between leaving the prison and meeting with Abigail. This time Nick knew that he heard Bo's voice. He pretended that he didn't.

This time, he noticed that the trunk of the car was weighted just so. He pretended not to notice that, either.

And of course he didn't notice when Chelsea parked the car down the block from their destination, near a shady cul-de-sac with no one in sight.

* * *

"It looks the same," Nick told Chelsea lamely when they were in front of the Horton house. He was too drained to come up with a more useful observation. Seeing Abigail wasn't anything like as stressful as seeing Gabi, but it was still something that would be better when it was over.

"It's probably looked the same since your great-grandparents built it," said Chelsea, playing along with the small talk. "When was that? The Great Depression?"

"I think so."

"Someone must have remodeled it at some point, then."

"My grandmother says the front door is practically the only thing that's original."

They both stared at it. It was the same door that Tom and Alice had opened when they'd brought each of their five children home for the first time. Uncle Tommy had walked through that door when he'd returned from Korea, scarred and not remembering his past. Aunt Addie had walked through that door when she'd announced that she had married her daughter's boyfriend. Uncle Mickey and Uncle Bill had walked through it together even when Uncle Bill had been harboring the uneasy secret of Mike's true paternity. And this door had been open to Nick's own grandmother while mourned a broken engagement and a miscarriage.

It had continued on to the next generation, when Nick's mother and her cousins had sought their grandparents' counsel and shelter. And then they had had children themselves. Shawn-Douglas and Jeremy. Nathan and Will. And Abby and Nick.

"You okay?" asked Chelsea gently.

"Yeah," said Nick. "Just thinking about how many people in my family stood right here and looked at that door. They used to come to my great-grandparents to fix everything. Absolve them of everything. It's peaceful, in a way, knowing that. Knowing that everyone stood in this same place, thinking the same thing."

"Thinking what?"

"_I screwed up."_

"Yes, you did," said Abigail, and she flung the door open.

"Eavesdropping isn't very nice," said Chelsea. She was at Nick's hip again, ready to defend him from all comers.

Abby made a face at Chelsea. "It's not eavesdropping if you're having the conversation on my actual doorstep."

"I don't think it works that way," said Chelsea.

"Oh, it really does," said Abby, and all of a sudden the two of them were hugging each other and laughing. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. I've missed you."

"You too." Abby pulled away and considered Nick. "And it's good to see you," she said, and if her voice was a bit more conflicted than it had been when she was hugging Chelsea, then Nick deserved that. "Do you want to come in, or do you want to stare at the door some more?"

"I think I'm done staring," said Nick. He was squeamish again as the familiar smell unique to the Horton living room seeped into his lungs. He'd never been quite sure what the smell was. The echo of tens of thousands of doughnuts, perhaps.

"I do that too, sometimes," said Abby. "Not with the front door. Usually with Great-Grandma's chair." She pointed at the chair in question. "I sit in it and I wonder who I think I am. But it's where I feel closest to her, too, like I'm going to get good advice just by being in that space." An inscrutable smile crossed her features and she pointed again. "Sit down."

"Are you trying to make him more uncomfortable?" asked Chelsea.

"Does he need you to protect him from me?" asked Abby. "Go upstairs and say hi to JJ or something." Chelsea cut her gaze uneasily to Nick, as if asking permission. Abby rolled her eyes. "Fine, stay," she corrected.

Nick knew that he should have told Chelsea that he could handle this conversation without her, but the words died in his throat.

"This will be fun," said Chelsea cheerily. "I can be the arbitrator like Abby used to be between Nick and me."

"That wasn't fun," said Abby.

"Then why did you keep doing it?" asked Chelsea.

"Because I loved you both and wanted you to be happy."

"I love you, too," said Chelsea, before turning her attention back to Nick. "So is Grandma Alice's chair giving you wisdom?"

Nick thought about it. If he could stare at a door and feel some kind of connection to generations of family members, why couldn't he feel the force that Abby claimed came with the chair?

He didn't feel anything except awkward.

"I didn't know her as well as you did," he told Abby. "You were her favorite great-grandchild. You and Shawn."

"Shawn was everyone's favorite," said Chelsea with a playful wink.

"She spent the most time with Shawn and me," said Abby. "We were lucky. But I guarantee you she didn't have favorites. She loved all of us. It was what made her so special. When you stayed with Maggie for a few weeks that one summer, Great-Gram didn't stop talking for a year about how wonderful it was to have you close. How smart you were, how kind, how proud Grandpa Tom would have been of your science projects. All of us who lived here were like, 'what are we, chopped liver?'"

Nick nodded. A lump rose in his throat that he didn't care to acknowledge.

"At least you remember her," said Abby. "JJ doesn't at all, and I hate that for him. So my mom and I, we talk about making sure he knows her through her legacy. And her legacy is things like the volunteer program at the hospital and the Horton Center. But her legacy is also the people she touched, trying to live their lives the way she lived hers. So you know what, Nick?"

"What?" he managed.

"Chelsea told me that you wanted to come to Salem for a day or two to apologize to the people you weren't very nice to. Don't apologize to me. You don't have to. I forgive you. It hurt like crazy when I thought you were dead and I'm glad you're here."

It took everything in him not to cry. "I'm going to apologize anyway," he told her. "Because you didn't deserve to be called EJ DiMera's whore." The words tasted dirty in his mouth. "And because I didn't think about how you would be hurt when I arranged to have the pictures of you and EJ sent to Sami if anything happened to me."

"So that was how Chelsea knew to warn me about Sami." Abby glanced at Chelsea and nodded like this was confirmation of something she'd already realized. "Thanks for the heads up."

"I'm glad you're okay. Sami can be really dangerous when she's mad. Believe me, I know."

"I know you do." Abby looked at the floor. "I should apologize to you, too."

"Please don't," said Nick. "Gabi did, and I don't think I could take it twice in one day."

"Gabi should have," chimed in Chelsea from her perch on the far end of the couch. "Gabi shot you three times at point blank range. Read your own medical records. Your body was a mess."

"Is he okay now?" Abby asked Chelsea.

"He's doing better all the time. No permanent damage," said Chelsea. "Oh, Nick, is it okay if I talk about your confidential medical records with your cousin?"

Nick appreciated the opportunity to smile. "Sure."

"Well now that that's settled," said Abby. "I'm sorry. The reason EJ and I ended up at the cabin together in the first place was because I was really close to figuring out what Sami did to you. I should have kept pushing for justice instead of… God." Abby buried her face in her hands. "You do not have the family monopoly on making mistakes, you know?"

"It felt like it for a while," said Nick.

"We all feel that way. JJ thinks he's the worst Horton in Horton history because he sold drugs. I didn't know how I was going to face my family after I had that affair with EJ. Even Will, when he came out, he was worried about what it would look like. We all do this."

"And the crazier thing is that we always have," Nick mused aloud. "Like when my Grandma gave my Mom up for adoption because nice girls don't have babies out of wedlock."

"And when my Grandpa Bill went to jail because otherwise he would have had to admit that he had a kid by his brother's wife."

"Julie says there's stuff I don't even know."

"How bad can the stuff we don't know possibly be?" She shook her head. "Don't answer that. Just be happy and healthy."

Nick took that as his cue and stood up to go. "You too, Abigail. I know you're going to have a wonderful life."

"You're going to be a part of it," she prompted. "We're family."

"From a distance. I don't think I'll be in Salem again."

Abby, unlike Gabi, looked bothered by the possibility. "You have to come back sometimes. Maybe not to live, but to hang your ornament on the tree at Christmas? For a big family wedding?"

Nick didn't know what to say.

"Then I'll come visit you," Abby decided, and she hugged Nick hard. This time he couldn't stop a tear from falling down his cheek, and he brushed it away as discreetly as he could.

"Love you," she said as she ushered them both out. She whispered something in Chelsea's ear, but Nick was staring rigidly ahead and didn't know what it might have been.

* * *

Neither Nick nor Chelsea had an appetite that night. Chelsea couldn't sit still, and Nick told her more than once that she should go out if that would take the edge off of her nerves. Chelsea had always been one to seek noise and crowds and energy when she was upset about something.

"No way," said Chelsea. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"I don't need a baby-sitter," he said, as kindly as he could manage.

"I promised your parents I wouldn't leave you."

"What they don't know won't hurt them."

"I don't care. I promised."

"Who are you and what have you done with Chelsea Brady?"

"I'm grown up Chelsea Brady who understands about responsibility," said Chelsea. "Didn't you always want that for me?"

"I'm not your responsibility."

"You came to Salem for me, and you had a horrible day for me. You kind of are my responsibility."

"It wasn't horrible," said Nick. It was more like getting that overused word… closure.

"You won't eat and you've barely said a word all day except to Abigail and Gabi. And you keep squirming around like you're in pain."

"It feels like my skin's crawling," Nick admitted. "I wish I could just throw myself into an ice flow or something to cool down."

Chelsea's face lit up delight. "Nick Fallon. You're a genius."

"I know, but why?" he asked, falling into the old response automatically.

"Hope doesn't have an ice flow, but she does have a swimming pool in the back yard."

"It's October."

"So it'll be nice and cool."

"Did you bring a swimsuit? Because I didn't."

"I'm sure one of my old ones is around here somewhere, and one of Shawn's for you. Or else we can just go skinny dipping." She wiggled her eyebrows. "I'm not hitting on you, I swear. But it's not like I haven't seen everything you've got before, and vice versa."

"We're not skinny dipping," said Nick.

He remembered all the times he'd said that they weren't going to steal evidence in an open criminal investigation, and they weren't going to stake out a frat house to see what Ford Decker did, and they weren't going to make out in the middle of the Brady Pub at lunchtime.

Of course they went skinny dipping.

"We're on private property," Chelsea rationalized. "And it's dark. We won't turn on any of the lights. No one will see anything."

The water was freezing, and Nick reveled gratefully in the shock for a moment before he began to swim. The effort kept him warm, but he was exhausted after a few laps. Chelsea was good at physical therapy; she wasn't _that_ good.

"Any cramps?" asked Chelsea as she swam up to him.

Chelsea, naked and wet in the moonlight, was as beautiful as she had ever been. Nick reached out to draw her closer to him. He didn't care for the idea of her being so far away.

"Fine," he breathed. "Just, probably going to get cold in a minute."

"Me too," she said.

He didn't care for the idea of Chelsea being cold, either. "We can't have that," he murmured, and pulled her even closer. When she put her arms around his neck, he took that as a sign that she wouldn't entirely mind if he kissed her.

His tired body shocked deliciously back to life when it tasted Chelsea. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he groaned. He knew in that moment that his vow of celibacy wasn't going to last the year. It might not last the night.

Chelsea giggled against his mouth but refrained from mentioning that he was aroused and kissing her and running his hands over every bit of her naked body that he could reach. He didn't need the lights that they hadn't turned on; he didn't need the moonlight that made her whole body sparkle like an otherworldly being. He knew her by heart. He always had.

That was when they were blinded by the beam of an industrial strength flashlight.

_To be continued._

* * *

**Auxiliary Disclaimer**: _The nail polish colors are by Formula X. In my experience (because I know you read this fic for nail polish recs), the product is awful but the names are hilarious. It's too bad they don't have Nick working out their formulas…._

_The inner fire quiz is from , in case you need to check the color of your inner fire. It amused me to no end that I really did get the answer about going on adventures with someone you care about from filling out the quiz as Nick with help from Chelsea._


	22. Homecoming

**Part 22: Homecoming**

Hope reminded herself with each breath to remain vigilant and aware rather than giving in to the fuzzy tiredness that danced around the edges of her consciousness. The few days she and Ciara had spent with Aiden and Chase had been a special kind of exhausting. Traveling home alone with Ciara, who knew perfectly well that "Aiden and Chase have a few things to wrap up before they come back to Salem" was a non-answer to her reasonable questions about why their travel plans had changed, wasn't much better.

In contrast to that, it was almost a relief to field long, chatty calls from her father and Julie. Julie was eager to announce that they'd be visiting Salem that very week since Hope was ready to see them again.

Add to all of that the fact that Nick and Chelsea were currently camped out in Hope's home…

But at least Hope had a plan. The plan was to demand that Chelsea pick up some takeout and that Nick amuse Ciara to distract her from thoughts of the Chase mystery. Hope herself could forget the swirling vortex of drama and tragedy and responsibility for a few minutes.

It was a good plan, but it was not meant to be.

As she and Ciara stepped out of the cab (Aiden's car having been left at the airport awaiting his and Chase's return), Hope fumbled for money to tip the driver. For all Hope's supposed vigilance, Ciara noticed the problem first.

"_Oh no,"_ Ciara mumbled under her breath. She tugged on Hope's arm to warn her. "Mrs. Pezulli."

Hope bit back a groan. Their next door neighbor meant well, but what was neighborly protectiveness in Mrs. Pezulli's eyes was often nosey interference in Hope's.

"I'm glad you're back, Hope," said Mrs. Pezulli as Hope sent the somewhat concerned driver on his way. "I was just about to call the police."

Hope steadfastly did not look at Ciara. She knew that if she did, she would laugh at the expression on her daughter's face.

"What's wrong, Mrs. Pezulli?" asked Hope in her standard concerned-cop voice.

Mrs. Pezulli sent a meaningful look in Ciara's direction. Evidently this was something inappropriate for a ten-year-old girl.

"I'll just take our bags inside," said Ciara, and Hope heard the mirth in her young voice. Ciara knew that she knew things that would make Mrs. Pezulli's hair curl. Hope wasn't sure whether Ciara chose not to torment Mrs. Pezulli out of compassion or because it wouldn't have been enough of a challenge.

Mrs. Pezulli rambled through an explanation as Ciara made her way to the front door, which she shouted at Chelsea and Nick to open.

"They were naked in your pool," Mrs. Pezulli hissed at last. "Behaving very inappropriately." She glanced toward the brightly lit door and caught sight of Chelsea and Nick, who had taken the bags from Ciara. "_Them_."

"They were skinny dipping? In October?" Hope raised an eyebrow. Things had certainly progressed since she'd last seen Chelsea and Nick together. She didn't know whether to laugh or be afraid.

"They were. I heard someone in the pool and noticed that the lights weren't turned on, so I thought it might be teenagers causing trouble. I came out with my big flashlight and got a very good look at them."

"I'll discuss it with them," Hope said loudly enough for Nick and Chelsea to hear. "Thank you, Mrs. Pezulli. Have a good night."

Mrs. Pezulli, her duty done, retreated to her own home.

Hope took a moment to survey her own living room.

Ciara was perched on the back of the couch, not even attempting to hide her grin as she awaited her unanticipated entertainment.

Both Nick and Chelsea showed the signs of having dressed hastily. Their damp hair dripped onto their shirts.

Nick was standing before her, ready to take his punishment but staring at the ground and blushing furiously.

Chelsea was standing beside Nick, but her chin was raised insolently and her eyes were locked on Hope's.

Hope was torn between wishing for Ciara to absorb her older sister's confidence and wishing that she could lock Ciara in a convent before she had a chance to become the sort of teenager Chelsea had been.

"You were skinny dipping in my pool?" Hope demanded severely.

"Yes," said Chelsea, still not showing a single sign of shame.

Hope couldn't stop a smile from spreading over her face. "Good," she said. "I'm glad someone got some use out of it before we drained it for the winter. Chase and Ciara were hoping for one more warm weekend to throw a pool party but I don't think it's going to happen."

"Can we go swimming now, then?" asked Ciara.

"It's really cold," said Nick. "You might not want to." Indeed, both he and Chelsea had started to shiver now that they knew that Hope wasn't angry about their appropriation of her pool.

"Go shower and get changed, and meet me down here in twenty minutes," Hope instructed them, and they vanished. "Ciara, go put on your pajamas and get ready for bed."

"But-" began Ciara.

"And you may also come back down here in twenty minutes," said Hope.

Ciara nodded and followed her sister and Nick up the stairs.

Hope sank into the couch relished the temporary quiet. It was when she closed her eyes that she realized that she had seen something out of place.

_Of course things are out of place, _she reminded herself. _Nick and Chelsea felt at home enough to run around the backyard naked. Why wouldn't they leave something in the living room?_

But a nagging feeling forced her eyes open and demanded that she investigate.

On a table, half out of sight, was a silver envelope and a small box. She knew the handwriting on the envelope before she read the words on the front:

_Fancy Face and Doodlebug._

* * *

"Hope is awesome," said Chelsea with a laugh as she stepped out of the shower and into her old bedroom. (She had agreed to go first only because she knew that Nick would argue indefinitely if she did not. She had a better chance of getting him warmed up faster by going first and moving as quickly as she could than by wasting time insisting that he was the one with still-pink scars tracing his torso so he was the one who needed to stop shivering soonest.) "_Good_. Her stupid neighbor blows the whistle on us, and she says _good_."

Nick looked singularly unconvinced. "She just didn't want to get into it in front of Ciara, and you know it."

"Ciara knows what skinny dipping is. Hope probably doesn't want her getting the idea that she should be scared of her own body because some random nosey person decides to sit in judgment for her for something she was doing in her own home."

"This isn't our home. What we were doing was kind of disrespectful to Hope."

"Maybe a little," Chelsea admitted. "Okay, I'll apologize for that since you did enough apologizing for today. But that's Hope's business, not Mrs. Whatsherface's."

"It's more than that," said Nick. "Hope is your family. Hope loves you."

"So? I love Hope, too. Technically you're the one who's got DNA in common with her, though."

"Did you see how Rafe was looking at me at the prison today?"

Chelsea shrugged. "Rafe's a neanderthal."

"No, he's not. He's a brother protecting his sister. If Shawn were here and he knew what you and I were doing out there, he'd beat the crap out of me to keep us apart, and I wouldn't blame him."

"First of all, no, he wouldn't," said Chelsea. "That's not Shawn. Second of all, if he tried, I would beat the crap out of him because he doesn't get to decide who I kiss."

"Technically, I think we got to third base."

"He doesn't get to decide who I do that with, either, and frankly he's not dumb enough to try."

"He would if he thought you were in danger, Chelsea, and a woman who gets involved with me is in danger."

"Why's that?" asked Chelsea nonchalantly, hoping Nick would be as impressed by her cool delivery as Hope had obviously been.

"Because I miss signals. I miss them or I ignore them. When I thought Gabi was reveling in me blackmailing people so she could get modeling jobs, Gabi was deciding how to get rid of me so I could never turn around and blackmail _her_. Your family means everything to you. You fought so hard for them. They're the reason we're here in the first place. They're going to try to talk you out of starting something up with me, and I think you should listen."

Chelsea sighed inwardly. "Go take your shower. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Chels-"

"Go."

Nick went.

She had barely had a chance to change into dry clothes when Hope tapped lightly at the door. "Chelsea?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I need to discuss with you. Come downstairs now, please."

Chelsea glanced at the clock. The decreed twenty minutes weren't up yet, and Hope seemed to have become much more serious. She wondered if Nick was right and she was in for a lecture about kissing felons. (Honestly, it wasn't as if _Nick_ had been the one to shoot his wife. The worst Nick had ever done to Chelsea was lie a little, and Chelsea was no amateur liar herself.) "All right," said Chelsea neutrally. She couldn't give away any of the secrets she carried until she knew for sure what Hope wanted.

When Chelsea and Hope were seated side-by-side on the couch (the same couch where they'd discussed, years ago, whether Chelsea was ready to lose her virginity to Nick), Hope flashed an envelope in front of her face.

_Fancy Face and Doodlebug,_ Chelsea read.

"Do you know anything about this?" Hope asked.

Chelsea gulped. It would have been nice of Bo to have warned her, but there hadn't been time for more than a hasty "thank you and I love you" before he'd squirreled himself away in the trunk of the car with assurances that yes, he could get himself out.

"I do," said Chelsea, and all of a sudden she was talking about how Bo had appeared in her apartment without warning and told her that Hope had filed for divorce. She left nothing out, not a word Bo had said, not the fact that she had slapped him across the face, not her delirious confession to Nick. Then she told Hope about the desperate phone call she'd gotten from Bo the day before and Nick's plan to create a cover story for her sudden reappearance in Salem.

"I only saw him for about 90 seconds today," Chelsea concluded. "He told me that he loved me, and he thanked me, and he promised that he'd be okay in the trunk of the car if I parked it down the street from the Hortons'. That's it. When Nick and I came back from talking to Abby, he was gone."

Hope had let Chelsea talk without interruption. Now they studied one another's faces. "I'm sorry," said Chelsea. "You had a right to know, and I didn't want to not tell you, but Dad said so many times that it might put you and Ciara in danger."

"You did the only thing you could do," said Hope, and Chelsea let out a breath that she hadn't known she was holding. "You told me about Nick when you were under a lot of pressure to keep a secret. I know you would have told me about this if you thought you could."

"I would have," said Chelsea, and she didn't like how plaintive her own voice sounded.

"That was a pretty clever cover that you came up with to come back to Salem," said Hope.

"All Nick," said Chelsea firmly. "It was his first idea, as soon as I told him what I needed."

Hope glanced at the stairs to assure herself that they were still alone. "So how are things between you and Nick?"

"You want to talk about that?" asked Chelsea dubiously. "Not about Dad?"

"You've told me everything you have to say about your father, right?"

"I guess so."

"Then in that case, I need a break from thinking about him before I have to talk to your sister. Tell me exactly what you and Nick were doing in my swimming pool."

For the first time, Chelsea was in danger of blushing. "Nothing that requires an extra pool cleaning," she said delicately. Hope didn't flinch. "But I'll pay for one if it makes you feel better. We didn't mean any disrespect."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Hope. "So now I know what didn't happen. Want to tell me what did?"

"Swimming. Kissing."

"I take it that you two are together?"

"I don't know," Chelsea admitted.

"Do you want to be?"

"I hoped that we were. I- I kissed him the other day when we were talking about how we were going to help Dad. He said that he wasn't interested and he wasn't ever going to be."

"And then tonight he agreed to go skinny dipping with you."

"He really wanted to go swimming."

Hope raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he agreed to go skinny dipping with me," Chelsea conceded. "And he was the one who kissed me, not the other way around. But that was when your neighbor came at us with a flashlight and we got out so we'd be dressed if we had to talk to the cops."

"Mrs. Pezulli can be a little over-enthusiastic," said Hope. "But I can't lie. I'm glad it wasn't Ciara who heard a noise out there and found you."

"Me too," said Chelsea. "I maybe didn't exercise good judgment."

"No," said Hope, but she was smiling.

"It was a long day," Chelsea wheedled.

"I can understand that," said Hope.

"So did you and Ciara and Aiden and Chase have a good vacation?" Chelsea asked, hoping that they could change the subject.

"Funny thing," said Hope. "Our trip wasn't quite what it looked like any more than yours was."

Fear rushed through Chelsea. "Is everyone okay? Is Ciara-"

"Ciara's fine, Honey. Without violating any confidences, there are some issues with Chase that needed to be resolved."

"Is he going to be okay?" Chelsea had never met Chase, but it was hard for her not to feel kinship with a child who had lost a parent. And Chase was so much younger than Chelsea had been when the Bensons had died…

"I think he'll be fine. His father and I will see to it that he has everything he needs."

"So you and Aiden are in this together." Something turned unpleasantly in Chelsea's stomach as she spoke the words. She had known that this was coming. Hope had told her herself when she and Ciara had visited the Smith Center. Short hours before, Chelsea had snuck Bo out of Salem so he could return to his undercover assignment. And yet, she felt a deep pang of sadness at the new confirmation that Bo and Hope's marriage was really and truly over.

"At least as far as relying on each other to help out with our children." A ghost of a smile played around Hope's lips. "Did Ciara tell you that she wants to be the first female umpire in Little League? She had Aiden threaten to sue for gender discrimination if she wasn't guaranteed a chance."

"That sounds like Ciara," Chelsea agreed with a smile. "Um, Hope?" She wondered whether she should ask her next question. Hope had been more than understanding over the past few months. The words slipped past her lips anyway. "Isn't that kind of the reverse of how things usually work? A man and a woman get involved but keep the kids out of it until they're sure it's serious?"

Hope didn't appear to take offense. "We met through our children so that wasn't exactly an option. However, this latest discussion of Chase was triggered by my digging into Aiden's background because I had to be sure that it was safe for him to be a fixture in Ciara's life."

"You thought he might not be?"

"Everything in me was telling me that he was, but you don't leave things to chance when your child is involved. You look for evidence." Hope paused, thinking. "I suppose it didn't help that there were a few people from Aiden's past who were bound and determined to convince me that he was dangerous. And none of that was a match for Aiden trying to convince me that I should walk away."

"That sounds familiar."

There was a tiny, victorious smile on Hope's lips, and Chelsea realized belatedly that her stepmother might have decided to share a few details of her relationship with Aiden to bring the subject right back to Nick. Hope had spent most of her life interrogating criminals. She couldn't help but be clever that way.

Rather than fight it, Chelsea admitted defeat. "Nick thinks I don't know what I'm getting into with him, but I do. I know him. I knew him back when we were together and I know him now. I understand that he comes with very specific baggage, but it's very specific baggage that I can handle, just like I know he can handle mine. He's worked really hard to deal with everything that was going on. People can change if they want to change, and Nick wanted to change. It's not even so much about wanting to change as wanting to get back to himself. And he did that. He did."

Hope shrugged. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

"You," said Chelsea firmly. "I don't need convincing."

"Why do I need convincing? Aren't you a grown up woman who makes her own decisions about who she sees and trusts her own judgment?"

Chelsea rolled her tired eyes. "Nick went to see Gabi at the prison today. Rafe was there."

"I know," said Hope. "Rafe texted me. So did Roman."

"Rafe really does not like Nick. Doesn't want him anywhere near his sister."

"Honey, you can't blame Rafe for that. Gabi comes first for him, and that marriage did not work out much better for Gabi than it did for Nick."

"But Nick is convinced that because Gabi's brother hates him, any woman's family would hate him. He says he doesn't want to come between me and my family. If it were any other guy, I'd assume he was letting me down easy, trying to make me feel like he was dumping me for my own good. Nick means it. I know he does."

Hope nodded slowly. "If that's the case, I may have something that will help. Wait here."

Hope vanished into the kitchen; in the meantime, Ciara and Nick made their way downstairs. Apparently the original twenty minute deadline was upon them. It warmed Chelsea slightly to see how they had all obeyed Hope's directive. They were a family, and they respected Hope's requests because she took good care of them all.

Ciara was just starting to explain how she was torn between being actress and an umpire when Hope returned with a box in her hand. She smiled at Ciara and Nick. "Slight change of plans," she told them. "Ciara and I have something that we need to discuss alone."

"We do?" asked Ciara dubiously. She was clearly trying to remember what she might have done that would warrant a talking-to. Chelsea's eyes met Nick's and they both stifled a grin.

"We do," agreed Hope.

"Are you going to tell me why Aiden and Chase really stayed in Puget Sound?"

"You know why they stayed. Aiden has some legal things to wrap up," said Hope smoothly. "No, this concerns your father."

Ciara paled, and then straightened her back. It broke Chelsea's heart at the same time as it filled her with pride. "He's all right," Chelsea told Ciara.

"Yes, he is," Hope confirmed. "But we aren't going to see him any time soon."

"Status quo, pro tempore," muttered Ciara, who apparently listened when Aiden talked.

"Exactly," said Hope. "I think. But first I have something for Nick, from your brother."

"From Shawn?" Nick, Chelsea, and Ciara asked in unison.

"When I told Shawn that you had died, he was very upset. As we all were." Chelsea and Ciara nodded in agreement. "He told me that years ago when we sent you to Canada to help him and Belle take Claire on the run, you had to use the money we gave you to bail him out of jail. He said that you replaced the money by pawning the watch that your parents gave you when you finished college."

Nick's head whipped around to face Chelsea so quickly that it was almost comical. "He wasn't supposed to know that."

Chelsea shrugged unashamedly. "You've been dead. It's okay to tell secrets when someone is dead."

"But if Shawn already knew when Hope told him that I had died, that means that you told him before you thought that I was dead."

"Are we really going to quibble about timelines?" asked Chelsea. "Continue, please, Hope."

"Thank you, Chelsea. As I was saying, once Shawn and his family learned that you were alive, they wanted to let you know that they never forgot what you did for them. They thought that I would see you sooner or later, so they sent this to me."

She handed the box to Nick. Chelsea hovered over his shoulder with interest as he snapped it open; Ciara, too, scrambled to Nick's side.

Chelsea gasped at the sight of the watch. Like the one Nick had pawned in Canada, it was a Rolex; it was made of green leather and yellow gold. Either Shawn had worked for months to repay Nick properly, or they had dipped into Belle's trust fund. Chelsea didn't care which. It was about the statement.

Nick's hand shook when he removed the watch from the box and turned it over. Ciara read the inscription out loud:

_To Nick,_

_Never forgotten._

_Love,_

_Shawn, Belle _

_&amp; Claire_

"Thank you," whispered Nick.

"Thank _you_," said Hope. "I didn't know that you used your own money or I would have reimbursed you at the time."

"It wasn't necessary. I sold the watch because I wanted to. Because it was the right thing."

"We appreciate that," said Hope. "All of us. Now, Ciara and I would like a little privacy."

"We'll be upstairs," said Chelsea hastily.

"You'll be in your room and Nick will be in Shawn's room," said Hope pointedly. Clearly there were limits to the adult behavior they were permitted to model for Ciara.

"I want Nick in my room and myself in Shawn's room," Chelsea argued. Nick had happy memories of her bedroom; he had no memories of Shawn's.

"That's fine," said Hope. "Go."

They went.

_**To be continued.**_


	23. Finale

Ciara's eyes flicked to the envelope in her mother's hand. She'd been trying to get a look at it ever since she'd come downstairs, but Hope had carefully, deliberately held it out of the way while they talked about Shawn and Nick and watches.

(Ciara approved of the watch Shawn had gotten for Nick. It was just flashy enough.)

"That letter. Is it about Daddy?" asked Ciara, as if she didn't already know the answer. Aiden had told her that lawyers didn't ask questions they didn't already know the answers to, and Ciara saw that that could have applications even for actress-umpires like herself.

"It's from your Daddy," said Hope, and an uncomfortable shiver ran through Ciara. It was one thing to get secondhand and thirdhand messages that her father was still busy with his mission, but a direct message from the man himself was something that she hadn't had in years.

And yet, she wasn't entirely happy to see it. She had wished for this so hard, and now that it was in front of her all she could do was wonder: If he _could_ send messages, why _hadn't_ he?

She didn't know that she had voiced the thought aloud until her mother answered. "It was very difficult and dangerous for him to get a message to us. That's why he hasn't done it before. He would if he could. But we knew that already, didn't we?"

"I guess," muttered Ciara.

"Would you like to read your letter?"

Everything in her screamed _yes_, because she hadn't wanted anything else for two years. "No," she said. He didn't get to decide all of a sudden that he was going to waltz back into her life.

Ciara's brain made a belated connection. She'd heard the expression _waltz back into my life _before, mainly from her older cousins who broke up with their girlfriends and boyfriends only to get together with them once more. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that the waltzing in question was the same as the waltzing her mother had done with Aiden at the Saint Luke's Academy Gala months ago.

"Are things over between us and Chase and Aiden?" she asked. There was no way that her mother's stories about how Aiden and Chase had things to wrap up in Puget Sound made any sense. They had gone up there to "wrap things up" in the first place, and their plane tickets had all been the same then. She and her mother had come home before Aiden and Chase because something had changed.

"Even if one day Aiden and I decide to end our romantic relationship, you and Chase will still be friends," said Hope.

Ciara rolled her eyes. She knew that her mother meant it. She also knew that in reality things would end up being so awkward and awful that either she or Chase would end up going to a new school.

"Don't roll your eyes, Ciara. It's true. One thing that Aiden and I will always agree on is that we want you and Chase to have as much consistency in your lives as possible."

"Are you sure they aren't staying in Puget Sound forever?"

"Positive," said Hope.

"We were doing fine before they got here anyway," Ciara said, because she didn't want it to sound too much like she had a problem with it if Chase got to move to a new town the way Allie had while Ciara hung around Salem and waited for people to leave her.

"Yes, we were," agreed Hope. "But they're part of our lives now. Is that still okay with you?"

Ciara shrugged. "Whatever."

"So let's read the letter from your Daddy."

Ciara stared at the envelope. _Fancy Face and Doodlebug. _

"Do you remember when he used to call you Doodlebug?" Hope prompted.

"It was a long time ago." Everything involving her father had been a long time ago now.

Hope passed Ciara a letter. When the letter was in her hand, Ciara couldn't resist reading it.

_Dear Ciara,_

At least he had used her real name and not the baby nickname that was for the baby he had left behind.

_I love you._

Ciara rolled her eyes again. It was a hackneyed opening. It was cheap.

_It is the greatest regret of my life that I have not been with you for the past two years._ _More than anything, I want you to know that it wasn't anything that you did. I made a bad decision. I did. You didn't. I love all of my children equally, and I know you the least, not because I love you less but because I made a bad decision. _

Ciara bit her lip. The thought that her father would never have left Shawn or Zack the way he had left her had crossed her mind from time to time.

_I grew up thinking that my Pop played favorites. He used to call your Uncle Roman his "Number One Son" and your Aunt Kimmie his "Best and Brightest." I thought he loved me less. I was the youngest in the family (we acquired your Uncle Frankie and Uncle Max later) just like you. I wondered if he was tired of having kids by the time I came along, or if it was just that there was something about me that he couldn't stand._

_When I was an adult, I found out that neither of those things were true. He loved me more than his own life._

_I love you more than my own life, Ciara._

_And I hope I haven't made a mockery of my Pop's sacrifice by not being there with you right now._

Ciara bit her lip harder. She didn't remember her Grandpa Shawn. She only knew the story about Grandpa Shawn giving the last of the oxygen masks on a plummeting plane to her daddy because Grandma Caroline had had one of those moments where she'd forgotten who she was talking to.

_I love you. Exactly as much as Shawn, exactly as much as Zack, and exactly as much as Chelsea._

One tear fell down Ciara's cheek and she brushed it away with annoyance. She was going to finish the letter.

_I'm tempted to try to teach you all the things I'm not there to teach you and give you all the good advice that has ever been given to me. But there are too many, and there is too much. I'm thankful because I know that your mother will take care of you and teach you and love you. I know that I have left you surrounded by a family and friends who will help you find your own path. _

_The only thing I can do is repeat this one more time: I love you._

_Dad_

And then it was over and Ciara was back to where she'd been. She was going to spend the rest of her life wondering if she would ever see him again. Her vision was too blurred with tears to see anything and she was to tired to protest when her mother pulled her into a hug.

"I want to see what he wrote you," she said when she had control over her voice again. She wanted to touch him one more time before he was gone again.

"Okay," said Hope, who probably would have given Ciara anything she asked for in that moment. "I'll read it to you, okay?"

Ciara nodded and sniffled.

_Dear Hope,_

_I have received your letter._

_You will always be the love of my life and my soulmate. I've loved you since I was a kid. I loved you when we were climbing trees while Roman mowed your grandparents' lawn. I loved you when you got on the back of my motorcycle. I loved you when we sailed around this world and when we brought our children into it. I love you now and I will love you forever._

_It breaks my heart not to be there with you. It breaks my heart to know that I caused pain to you and Ciara, and Shawn and Chelsea._

_I saw him. I don't know his name. I hate him because he's with you and he isn't me. But I understand that your life can't stop where mine did. You have my blessing to do whatever it takes to be happy. You have my blessing to do whatever it takes to build a family for yourself and Ciara._

_You told me once, when you thought you would never see me again, that loving me was the greatest joy of your life. That's all I can say to you now. Loving you has been the greatest joy of my life._

_Bo_

Ciara kept crying.

"He left us this, too," said Hope, and she held up a box that had worked its way behind a pillow on the couch. It was smaller than the box Shawn had sent to Nick.

"Jewelry? He's leaving us forever and trying to buy us off with jewelry?" asked Ciara. Jewelry was something Ciara got by blackmailing her cousin Sami. It wasn't something she accepted to make her father's absence permissible.

"That's not why he left it. He left it to tell us that it's all right to move on without him and to help us remember him."

"I don't need help," said Ciara.

"Neither do I," agreed Hope. But she opened the box all the same, and Ciara looked inside.

She recognized her father's wedding ring. She didn't recognize the disgusting silver beetle with horns and claws. She liked it, but she didn't recognize it.

Until she did.

"That's a doodlebug, isn't it?" she asked.

Hope lifted it from the box on its thin chain. She fastened it around Ciara's neck. "Yes, it is."

* * *

Chelsea entered her room without knocking, because technically it was still her room.

Nick was pacing like a caged tiger and twisting the watch in his hands. She scowled and wondered if he'd been like this in prison. Why had she ever let him go to prison? To soothe the phony redhead Melanie's annoying feelings?

"Nick," she said softly.

"Hope told us not to be in the same room," Nick said.

"She told us not to spend the night in the same room. We'll leave the door open and keep all of our clothes on, like the rules parents have for their high school kids."

"My parents never had those rules." Of course they hadn't. Nick had been the perfect child, which was why he had been so shocked to find himself as an imperfect adult.

"Mine did," said Chelsea bemusedly. "Of course I just went out the window and did whatever I wanted." She flashed Nick a bright smile. "But I lost my virginity right here in this room."

Nick stopped pacing and met her eyes. "I know. I was there."

"It's why I wanted you to stay here tonight. Somewhere where you have a happy memory."

"You don't have to do that, Chelsea. You can stay in your own room." As if to prove that he wasn't really overwhelmed by the events of the day, he sat calmly on the edge of the bed. Chelsea sat beside him. "This has been a hard day for you, too," said Nick. "Seeing your Dad, not knowing when or if that will happen again."

"That's true," said Chelsea. "It sucks. The whole situation sucks, especially for Hope and Ciara." She leaned into Nick and smiled when he put his arm around her. Being with Nick had always made her feel like there was a way to take on the world. "Speaking of my family, how do you like the watch Shawn gave you?"

"Did you tell Shawn and Belle to do that?" Nick demanded suspiciously.

Chelsea held her hands up in mock-surrender. "I didn't know anything about it until Hope brought it up."

"It's a lot of money."

"It was a lot of money back then, too, when it was your watch or their tickets to get on that ship. That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

Chelsea ran her hand over Nick's arm and shoulder, remembering how a few hours before he had kissed her when she'd touched him like that. "The point is that my brother and his family want you to know that they haven't forgotten how much good you have in you. You were just saying that you thought my brother would feel like Gabi's brother feels. Obviously he doesn't. Shawn isn't Rafe and I'm not Gabi. I wouldn't shoot you to break up with you. I've broken up with you without shooting you before, right?"

A smile twitched the corner of Nick's lip. "So many times."

"If you don't want to be with me, if you think it's too soon or you just don't think we're a good match anymore, that's fine. I'll respect your choice. But don't make up stories about how my family won't approve. Don't make up stories about how you'd be taking me away from my family. Way back when we first met, you gave me to my family. They couldn't stand me, but because I was around you they had to give me another chance. You were the reason I was getting invited to my own family's holiday dinners." She reached out with one finger to touch the watch that was still lying in Nick's palm. "You were the reason they trusted me to help Shawn."

"That was a long time ago."

"And after I had them, I left them. I'm in Salem for the first time in years because of you."

"Because of Bo."

"Who got in contact with me because the letter Hope sent him was postmarked in Washington DC because she and Ciara and Allie came to see you."

"I'm pretty sure your father would have come to see you anyway, Chelsea."

"But that isn't what happened. The only reason I saw Hope and Ciara, and Allie, last summer is because they came to see you. The only reason I was able to get my Dad out of here alive today is because you came up with the plan. The only reason I was alive for my Mom and Stephanie and Max to visit me last month is because you saved my life. You always push me toward my family. Never away."

"Is that it?" asked Nick.

That _had_ been it, but Chelsea decided to take the question as a challenge. Nick did seem to be listening, and she thought that she might as well take advantage of the situation. "One more thing," she told him. "I'm not asking for the rest of your life, at least not right now. I'm not saying let's move in together or get married. I'm just saying that maybe you could give me a chance. Maybe when we fly back to D.C. tomorrow, you could look at getting a job in the area. The work you did in the lab at the Smith Center got noticed. Someone is going to overlook the rest of your background to get to your brain."

"My brain that's on drugs to keep it working."

"Your brain that's so awesome it didn't know how to cope with this world without help." She tilted his chin toward her. "Say no because it's not something you want. Don't say no because you don't think I know what I'm doing."

Nick kissed her.

Chelsea took that as a very good sign, and they didn't break apart until they heard Ciara sobbing in the living room below them.

Then Chelsea crept guiltily to Shawn's old bedroom and did not emerge until the next morning.

* * *

No one was surprised when Doug and Julie showed up late the next morning.

There was even less surprise in the air when Julie began ordering them all around. Doug was to go to lunch with his daughter and granddaughter because Ciara had promised to teach him about Instagram. Chelsea was to go to the Pub and visit with her grandmother, because Nick didn't need supervision while he was with Julie.

"I don't actually need supervision at all," Nick pointed out.

"Yes, you do," said Julie in a tone that left no room for argument. "I left you alone last spring against my better judgment and I will not be making that mistake again. I promised your parents."

"You promised my parents to monitor me 24/7?"

"I promised them I'd check up on you."

"We've only been here for a day. We're leaving tonight."

"Stop arguing," Julie directed. "I wanted to see you and I'm going to see you. So tell me how your visit has gone."

Nick told her, leaving out the Bo-related details (Hope was probably going to tell Julie anyway, but Nick wasn't going to be the one to make that decision) and lingering over his meditations on the Horton front door.

"It is the only piece of that room that still looks the same as it did back in the Sixties," Julie confirmed. "You and Abigail were right about that."

That reminded Nick of something. "You never did finish your story," he told her. "The family history. We got up to David and my Mom being given up for adoption, but then Chelsea showed up."

Julie looked pleased. "You want to know more?"

"You did promise you'd tell me about you and Doug."

"I'm not sure whether you want to know or whether you're humoring me, but I don't care. I like the sound of my own voice. Didn't we go through my marrying Scott to get David back?"

"Yeah. You hadn't met Doug yet, though."

"I'm going to guess that you know that Doug met Uncle Bill in prison."

"Because Bill wouldn't tell anyone why he was in Uncle Tommy's wife's room the night she died because then he would have had to tell everyone that she was blackmailing him about being Mike's father. Abby told me."

"I'm a little surprised that Jennifer told Abby that much," said Julie. "Good for her." The she resumed the story. "So Doug and Bill are in prison together, and Bill told Doug all about how dear _Susan_ had inherited $250,000. Remember, this was many years before you were born. It was a lot of money."

"It's still a lot of money."

"It was more then, and Doug was a conman who made a beeline for Susan the moment he was released from prison. Now Susan, my friend, my enemy, my rival, she was not stupid. She paid Doug to seduce me and ruin my marriage with Scott. She tried to call it off later, though, but Doug wasn't having it. He was having too much fun. He was singing at the cabaret- Sergio's- and every time I heard him sing… every time I heard him talk about his travels and his adventures… every time he flirted with me… I realized how bored I was with Scott. I cared for Scott, but I'd married him to keep my son away from Susan. It got worse when David saw a picture of his adoptive mother and asked Scott who she was. Scott was very fair in his explanation, but David couldn't accept that there was any good reason for a mother to give up her child. David was distant and that made Doug even more of a delicious escape.

"Around this time my father died and my mother came home from Europe. She was full of her usual lectures about how I was lucky that a man like Scott would even look at me."

"Your mother said that to you?"

"My mother tended to compete with other women. She thought my father paid too much attention to me."

"But you were her daughter," repeated Nick, as if that would somehow change the story. "I'm sorry, go on."

"I had the paperwork all set to divorce Scott behind his back. Doug and I were ready to run away- Portofino, we'd been planning it for years. But the night before we were going to leave, I said that I wanted to take David with us. Doug said that he didn't want to be a stepfather and we fought. He stormed off and ran into my mother. She asked him to marry her and he did, on the spot."

"Did she know about you and Doug?"

"Of course," said Julie. "That's why she did it."

"But she was your-" Nick broke off before he repeated for the third time that Addie had been Julie's mother and that mothers didn't do that kind of thing. "Hey, I tried to steal my cousin's daughter, right?"

"You did," agreed Julie without judgment. "Don't do that again."

"I won't."

"My mother took my father's money and bought Sergio's for him. She renamed it Doug's Place. It was disgusting," Julie scowled. "My mother married my boyfriend and then used my father's money to turn our special place into their special place. I was still married to Scott. He never knew that I'd decided to divorce him, not until he died, which happened less than a year later. There was a construction accident. So I was alone, but Doug had no intention of leaving my mother, especially not after she got pregnant with Hope."

Nick winced. "What did you do?"

"Moved in with the owners of the construction company that Scott was working for when he died. Bob and Phyllis. They were older."

"So you seduced Bob?"

"Who told you that?" asked Julie with surprise.

"I was kidding," said Nick.

"Oh. I wasn't. I married him, but we're getting ahead of the story. My mother was dying of cancer but she wouldn't accept treatment because she wanted to carry Hope to term. I sat by her deathbed and promised to raise Hope as my own. I had an easier time bonding with Hope than I ever had with David. Then my mother popped into miracle remission and I decided I might as well marry for money since I couldn't have Doug and Hope. Phyllis did try to shoot me, but she shot her own daughter by accident. That's why it's important not to try to shoot people."

Nick honestly had nothing to say to that. "Okay," he managed.

"That was when my mother was hit by a car and killed. She just barely managed to push Hope's baby carriage out of the way. My marriage was horrible. I was faithful to Bob, but he didn't believe it. I was ready to divorce him when I found out that I was pregnant. I would have divorced him anyway, but Doug found out and wanted my child to have his parents together, so he told me he didn't love me. That didn't stop me from moving into his guest room to get away from Bob. Now, David had this girlfriend named Brooke. Brooke told everyone, including your great-grandmother, that I was pregnant by Doug. Grandma believed her and believed that I'd had an affair with Doug while he was married to my mother. Of course I was completely innocent for once in my life."

"Great-grandma believed your son's girlfriend instead of you?"

"No one is right all the time, not even Alice Horton. David was so upset by the whole thing that he drove Doug's car off a bridge. We thought he had died. When we found him alive, I went running to him and I fell. That's when I miscarried. I finally got engaged to Doug. I had my son back. Things were looking good for once."

"I hate it when things start looking good," said Nick. "It's a bad sign."

"There's no need for that," said Julie. "Doug and I got married."

"And nothing else happened between the engagement and the wedding?"

Julie sighed. "There was the little matter of his ex-wife showing up and claiming they'd never been divorced. But after the wedding, we lived happily ever after."

"Didn't you and Doug get married two more times after that?" Nick demanded.

"Who's telling this story?"

Nick remained silent.

"Fine," said Julie. "I had a friend named Sharon Duvall. There were problems in her marriage because she'd fallen in love with someone else."

"Doug?" guessed Nick.

"Me," said Julie pointedly.

Nick hadn't seen that coming. "What was that like?"

"Back in the Seventies people weren't as public about those kinds of feelings as they are now. It was a surprise. I was sad for Sharon that she was so troubled by the way she felt. She couldn't help it anymore than I could have helped loving Doug. She attempted suicide. When she recovered and left Salem, she gave me a beautiful cameo. I still wear it to this day."

"That's nice," said Nick. Not for the first time, he was overwhelmed with feelings of shame for the way he had treated Will and Sonny.

"It is," agreed Julie. "Do you want to stop for now? The next part of the story is a little bit rough."

Nick decided that whatever happened to Doug and Julie next couldn't be worse than seeing Gabi in prison or hearing Ciara cry for her father. "I know the story has a happy ending, though," he told Julie.

"All right, then. Doug had some problems with the club. Labor issues. Liquor license. He had to travel to sort things out, and in the meantime a man named Larry Atwood helped me with the club. He enjoyed himself so much that he framed Doug on drug charges to keep him out of the way. He took me out to dinner. He told me that he loved me. When I said that I loved Doug, he forced himself on me."

Nick sucked in a breath. No wonder Julie had considered not telling him this part of the story. "I'm sorry-" he started to say, but Julie cut him off.

"I survived, and it has made not one whit of difference in my life for many years. At the time, I damn near destroyed my marriage because I didn't want Doug touching me but I didn't want to tell him why."

Nick understood that a little too well.

Julie lowered her voice. "But I did tell him," she whispered. "Telling the people who love you what you're worried about is helpful, you know."

"I know," said Nick.

"Larry turned up dead. They arrested me, but they found out that he'd been killed by his own henchman. We had a chance to breathe for a little while- other than my brother Steve and the fake antiques of course."

"Of course."

"And then… I suppose we're coming to the end of the first marriage. Maggie's stove blew up in my face. The scarring was terrible. I didn't think Doug would want me, so I divorced him to save him the trouble."

Nick swallowed thickly. Julie had been watching him carefully. "All right, Darling?" she asked.

"You're the one telling the story. Not me."

"I'm not the one learning all of this for the first time. I'm not the one who's young and impressionable, but don't you go repeating that to anyone." Nick tried to smile, but couldn't. "Why did that hit you so hard?"

"It's the exact… discussion Chelsea and I have been having for two days. I don't think it's a good idea for her to… pursue me. She thinks she gets to decide what she wants. Who she wants."

"Chelsea thinks that, does she?" Julie feigned shock. "Imagine that. I wish I were wearing my pearls. I would clutch them."

"I've never seen you wear pearls."

Julie shrugged. "Every woman has pearls."

"Do you think that I should- that Chelsea and I should- that we should try to have a relationship again?"

"Do you want a relationship with Chelsea?" asked Julie.

"Yes." The answer rolled easily off of Nick's tongue.

"And Chelsea wants that too?"

"Yes. She says she does."

"Why would she lie?"

"She wouldn't. But I- I tried this with Gabi. I divorced her. If we'd just stayed apart, she wouldn't be in prison and I wouldn't have three bullet holes in my body."

"You have six bullet holes in your body," said Julie. "Three entry, three exit."

"I'm not talking to you anymore," said Nick.

"As a matter of fact, you are," said Julie. "I don't know Chelsea or Gabi very well, but I know that they are very different young women."

"That's what Chelsea says."

"As she should. I'm not calling the little brat Gabi a bad person-"

"Julie!"

"I called her a brat. Not a bad person."

"Stop calling her a brat, too."

Julie rolled her eyes dramatically. Nick was forcibly reminded of her niece-granddaughter Ciara. "All right. Let's accept for the sake of argument that Gabi is a wonderful human being. Let's also point out that you, despite some mistakes, are a wonderful human being. That doesn't mean that you should have been married. Scott Banning and Bob Anderson were good men. I made them miserable. They made me miserable. I had no business being married to either of them, but I have lived a magnificent life with Doug. Doug and I are compatible. Chelsea may be to you what Doug is to me, but you won't know if you refuse to give her a chance."

Nick's head was swirling as it had been for most of the past two days. "What happened next?" he asked, to give himself time to think. "How did you and Doug get back together?"

Julie returned obediently to the story. "I had reconstructive surgery. I thought that the divorce would be a blip on the radar, that Doug would realize I had been frightened and made a panicked mistake. Hope was begging him to remarry me. Of course, I was the only mother she knew."

"He still wouldn't forgive you?"

"It wasn't so much that as that he'd gone on a voyage of self-discovery and run into a long-lost brother who promptly died and left Doug a fortune. For a conman, Doug wasn't so great at spotting a con when Lee DuMonde turned up. He married her. When he realized what he'd done, she dug in her heels and refused to divorce him. She hired a man named Brent Cavanaugh to murder me. He shot me, but I lived." Julie tugged her blouse sideways to expose a faded, puckered scar. "See? One more thing you and I have in common."

"Did she go to jail?"

"Lee didn't give up that easily. She mixed her medications and gave herself a stroke, then told Doug she'd only had a stroke because she loved him so much. And the man bought it. I started dating a man named Brad, who unfortunately turned out to be Brent, so he tried to kill both Doug and me. Lee had a change of heart and killed him. She ended up in a sanitarium while Doug and I got back together. She snuck out in time for our wedding, and she tried to stop me from getting to the ceremony. We locked her inside the house and she watched through the window. You know, I was just thinking about Lee a few months ago. The last time Hope was as mad at me as she was for faking your death was over Lee."

"Why would Hope side with Lee?"

"Because she was a child and Lee was very, very manipulative. Hope moved in with our grandparents and I don't think she really got her head on straight again until that unfortunate fiasco with your mother and Jake Kositchek."

Nick grimaced. The dream he'd had while he'd been ill still haunted him. "Jake was a serial killer who tried to frame my father."

"That's the one."

"Do I remind you of him at all?"

"Every day," said Julie. "You have a lot of Joshua in you, you know that."

"Not Dad. Jake Kositchek."

Julie recoiled visibly. "Why on earth would you say that?"

In the midst of a conversation about how important it was to share your fears, Nick couldn't bring himself to lie, no matter how silly the truth was. "I had a fever dream while I was at the Smith Center that I went to hell and met him there."

"Marie told me that everyone who had that illness had terrible dreams until their fevers broke," said Julie.

"I was so relieved when I woke up and saw Grandma," Nick remembered. "And I hated watching Chelsea go through it, knowing she thought she was in some terrible place."

"Any place with Jake Kositchek is certainly horrible," agreed Julie. "What did this fictitious Mr. Kositchek say to you?"

"He said that we were alike."

"Forgive me if I don't think that the words of a serial killer you've never met spoken in a nightmare are strictly accurate. No, Nick, you do not remind me of Jake Kositchek. I'll tell you the same thing I told you in the Smith Center. You remind me of me. You remind me of your parents and your grandmother. We've all of us made mistakes. We chose to learn from them and get better. I think that's what you've chosen, too. I think that you can you can find your own equilibrium, the same way we did after we threw Lee in the basement and left her there."

"You got divorced again after that. I remember when you got married the last time. I signed the card."

"And I have that card somewhere, I want you to know. Yes. I think that Doug and I were so surprised to find ourselves in an extended period with no excitement that we made our own excitement and got divorced. I can't put my finger on what caused it. When we remarried, we knew what was good and we embraced it. We still do."

Nick nodded. "Thank you for sharing your story."

"Thank me by talking to me and to the rest of your family when you feel alone or frightened. When you were in the hospital, Maggie and I had an argument. She said that you didn't want help. I told her that you didn't know how to ask. That's why I wanted you to know about my dirty laundry, Nick. I want you to know that it's okay to ask because most of us are actually very hard to shock."

"Especially you?"

"I _am_ rather extraordinary. So are you." Julie glanced at the clock; Hope, Ciara, Doug, and Chelsea would be home soon. "Let's talk about the weather or something. We've had enough heavy conversation to last us the rest of this visit."

They were, then, discussing hurricane season when Chelsea burst in the front door. Her eyes swept over Nick. "You're sitting here talking about hurricanes? I was worried about you, and you're talking about the weather?"

"I told you not to worry about me," said Nick.

"Well, I do," said Chelsea. She looked so petulant that Nick had to swallow a laugh. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a fight with her. Instead, he cupped her face with one hand and brushed his lips over hers.

She kissed him back enthusiastically. "What was that for?" she asked after a moment.

"You were right last night," he told her. "I'd like to ask you out on a date. It'll be a very cheap date because I don't have any money and I don't want to pawn that watch."

"If you're there, it'll be exactly my kind of date," said Chelsea.

_**To be concluded.**_

**Author's Note**: _Only the epilogue left. Thank you so much for the reviews- especially since I'm pretty sure most of you don't remember Nick/Chelsea and some of you don't even watch Days!_


	24. Epilogue: Thanksgiving

**Epilogue: Thanksgiving**

For the first few weeks, Ciara and Chase appeared to be in a competition to determine which of them could look more wan and depressed. The silver lining of that extremely dark cloud was that neither one of them seemed the slightest bit inclined to torment the other.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, though, they seemed to be adapting to their new normal. A little more certainty in their lives was a blessing even if the reasons for that certainty were horrible curses.

The two of them were even delighted to sit down to the Hortons' big Thanksgiving dinner. Ciara's cousin Allie had returned from Los Angeles to visit her father, and Ciara was listening to her stories with a mixture of interest and jealousy. Chase was quiet, but visibly content to listen to the girls' chatter, and the sight left Aiden feeling content, too.

Someone (most likely Jennifer, since she was the one who lived at the ancestral Horton homestead) had taken great care with the seating arrangements for several dozen people. Aiden was close enough to the children so that Chase was never completely out of his sight, and flanked by Hope and Jennifer so that he had some protection from the family matriarchs and patriarchs who were very interested in his intentions toward Hope.

His primary intention happened to involve spending the rest of his life repaying Hope for the way she had gotten him and Chase out from under the burden of their past. But he wasn't about to share that at the dinner table.

Maggie Kiriakis' eyes danced in his direction and he knew he should be worried. He knew it even before he felt both Jennifer and Hope shift in their seats, bracing for battle.

"Aiden," said Maggie far too kindly, "Remember a few weeks ago in the park when I invited you to the Horton Thanksgiving? I reminded Hope to bring cranberry sauce."

"I remember," said Aiden. "Thank you so much for the invitation. Chase and I have not had a meal like this in… ever." He flicked a meaningful look across the table at Chase, who took the hint.

"Thank you, Mrs. Horton," said Chase.

"Kiriakis," Allie hissed in Chase's ear.

"Kiriakis," Chase corrected, flushing. "I'm sorry."

"Quite all right, Chase," said Maggie. "It was Horton for most of my life and I will always be proud to answer to it. But that does bring us nicely back to my question. During that conversation in the park, I believe I told you that there would be a quiz."

"Maggie, come on," said Jennifer.

"Do I have to take a quiz, too?" asked Chase.

"Yes," said Maggie with a benevolent smile. "We have a very special children's quiz for you."

"I can take the adult quiz," said Chase, apparently eager to redeem himself for the Horton/Kiriakis blunder.

On Chase's right, Ciara raised an eyebrow precisely the way Hope did when she thought someone (usually Aiden) was making an idiotic decision.

On Chase's left, Allie's blue eyes grew impossibly wide and she shook her head just slightly, looking very much like her Aunt Jennifer.

(_Fuck_. Jennifer _was_ Allie's aunt, right? Something about Jennifer's father having two families and driving her mother to a mental institution? Not that this was likely to be on the quiz.)

"If you do that, your father would be able to cheat off of your answers," put in Doug, who was definitely going to enjoy this. Everyone at the long table was staring. A dozen small conversations had been broken off in favor of the pre-dessert entertainment.

"First question," began Maggie. "Chase, how many brothers does Allie have?"

Allie lay two fingers on her knee, right in Chase's line of sight. All of the adults pretended not to notice, because Allie was good-hearted if not subtle.

"Two," said Chase. "Johnny and Will."

"Very good," said Maggie. "Doug?"

"All right, Chase," said Doug, and Aiden's heart pounded uncomfortably. He didn't think that anyone was actually out to humiliate or upset Chase, but watching his child get put on the spot was far worse than being put on the spot himself. He was _good_ at this. Chase was…

Hope took Aiden's hand and squeezed it. He got the message. _It will be fine._

"Most people call Ciara's older brother Shawn, but that's not his real name. What is his real name?"

There were groans around the table. "Because _that's_ not a predictable question," muttered Julie.

"Shawn-Douglas," said Chase, and Aiden was impressed. He hadn't missed Allie meaningfully pointing at Doug, but he thought that Chase had.

"Very good," said Doug. "Julie, you may give him a question that is not predictable, if you insist."

"This is your last question, Chase," said Julie. "It's almost time for dessert. What is the Horton family's most special dessert?"

There were a mountain of donuts stacked on a sideboard beside the more traditional Thanksgiving pies. Allie traced a circle on her knee and stared hard at the donuts. Ciara reached around Chase to slap Allie's wrist.

"Ciara," said Hope.

"Don't hit me, or they won't let you have any _donuts_," said Allie.

"You're cheating," said Ciara.

"You always cheat," said Allie.

"Your answer, Chase?" prompted Julie.

"Ciara doesn't _always_ cheat," said Chase. "And donuts."

"Very good. I think the children may go and get dessert and take it into the other room."

"And miss watching you grill Aiden?" asked Ciara with real outrage. "The cheaters and I will stay."

"That means he'll get easier questions," Allie pointed out.

Ciara winked at Aiden, as if suggesting that while Allie might give her test prep services away for free, Ciara did not.

"Fine," said Maggie. "First question, Aiden. How are Allie and Ciara related?"

_Shit_. So he did have to know whether Allie was Jennifer's niece after all. "Ciara's mother and Allie's father are first cousins," he guessed, knowing for sure he'd gotten it right as the words left his mouth. "They're second cousins because of that. However, Allie's mother is Sami Brady, and Ciara's father is her uncle, so Allie and Ciara are also first cousins once removed on the other side."

There was a great deal of grumbling around the table that the question had been too easy and Aiden must have memorized a family tree or something.

"How about this?" asked Doug. Hope raised an eyebrow at her father, but Aiden was reasonably sure that he was unmoved. "What song did the Horton family sing for Hope's grandparents?"

"Irving Berlin's _Always_." Aiden tried not to smile smugly. He really didn't need Doug to hate him.

"That was even easier," said Will. He had wandered from his seat on the far end of the table to lean against his younger sister's chair and get a better view of the action. "That's the easiest question you could ask."

"No, it's not," said Hope. "Not if you've never been to Horton family events, and he hasn't." She turned curiously to Aiden. "How did you know that?"

"You mentioned it when we were planning the music for the St. Luke's Gala and I was hanging on your every word."

"Right." Hope laughed. "Hanging on my every word."

"And you'd better continue to do so," said Doug. He gestured at Julie. "It's up to you. Stump him."

Julie's smile reminded Aiden of a shark. "I've had a lot of practice recounting family history lately," she said. "So I'm ready for this."

"Bring it on," Aiden told her, because if he was going to go down he was going to go down with flare.

"I like your confidence, however misplaced it may be," said Julie. "Exactly one thing about the front room of this house has remained unchanged since 1965. What is it?"

Aiden pictured the room in his mind. There was a chair that had been Hope's grandmother's; Jennifer had pointed it out. It had not been updated for some time, but he doubted that it dated to 1965. The walls had been painted recently. "The bannister?" he guessed. There had been decent craftsmanship involved with that; he'd noticed because the style reminded him a little too much of Meredith's house in Puget Sound.

"Ha!" celebrated Julie. "Who was it who broke that bannister? Mike?"

"Your son," corrected Maggie. "David."

"It was Mike _and_ David, the way I heard the story," said Jennifer. "They were having a contest to see who could slide down it better."

"In any event, the bannister did not survive," declared Julie. "The correct answer is the front door."

"The bannister was a good guess, though," said Abigail. "I live here, and I wouldn't have known the answer if Nick hadn't brought it up when he was here."

There was a ripple through the group at the mention of Nick.

"Change of subject," said Maggie abruptly, with a long glance at Will.

"We're not allowed to say Nick's name?" asked Julie. "He is still a member of this family, correct? Despite the fact that we do not condone certain things that he has done?"

"Honestly, Julie," said Maggie. "With Will right here?"

"Leave me out of it," said Will hastily.

"Why were you even talking to him, Abigail?" Maggie demanded.

"He wanted to apologize," said Abigail. "We argued before he was shot."

"I remember. That was when I knew that I had to stop deluding myself into believing that he'd changed. I'm a little surprised that you agreed to meet with him."

"So was I," muttered JJ under his breath. "I checked the house for bugs when I found out he'd been here."

"He seemed sincere," said Abigail. "And he did not run around the house planting bugs. Chelsea and I were with him the whole time."

"Chelsea," said Maggie quietly. "There isn't anything going on there, is there? Hope?" Hope hesitated before she answered, and that was all it took. "There is." Maggie closed her eyes. "Doesn't she understand what happened to Melanie? And to Gabi?" She looked at her husband. "Chelsea is your granddaughter. We need to stop her."

"Will and I don't often agree," said Victor. "But to quote him, leave me out of it."

"Dessert? Living room?" said Doug, a little too loudly. There was a roar of approval.

Aiden offered Hope his arm as he stood. "We're usually better behaved than this," she whispered. "You've been initiated now. Christmas will be easy."

"I'm looking forward to it," he told her. "I bet there will be mistletoe."

"That is a safe assumption, Mr. Jennings," she told him. Then, all of a sudden, she dropped his arm as if she'd lost her balance and stumbled into the table. Her free hand grasped a gravy boat which was promptly upended across her cousin Lucas' chest.

Lucas shouted in surprise; his children, Will and Allie, laughed rather unsupportively.

"Oh," said Hope. "Sorry, Lucas."

"That's all right." Lucas dabbed ineffectually at the gravy with a napkin. Will finally took pity on his father and made an effort to help. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you did that on purpose. Looked like one of those moves Sami used to pull back when-" Lucas broke off, to a knowing look on Will's face and a curious one on Allie's.

"Of course it was an accident," said Hope sweetly. "It's just a coincidence that last spring when you kept lying to me during a murder investigation, I promised myself that when I looked at you across the dinner table at Thanksgiving you'd get a pitcher full of gravy in your lap."

"Sorry, Dad," whispered Will, who was doubtless the reason Lucas had lied about Nick's supposed murder.

"She's Ciara's mother. What do you expect?" asked Allie consolingly.

* * *

Chelsea's bra and panties were black lace.

They were classic, and a bit boring, but they would do the job. It was the memory of Nick's insistence on the plane ride to Salem that _black_ was the color he would choose that had convinced her to choose them, as opposed to something more dramatic.

Nick would get the message with or without elaborare lingerie, and she didn't plan to be wearing anything for long.

She had asked him to come over to her apartment a few hours before they needed to be back at his family's house for dinner so they could "catch up and watch the parade." She wondered if he realized that that was a euphemism. She determined that it didn't matter.

Their lives had been unexpectedly busy for the past six weeks. Chelsea hadn't been wrong when she'd said that someone who worked at the Smith Center would be able to push Nick into a job that would overlook the criminal record and the stay at an innocuously-named secret rehab facility for the rich and famous. The offer had come almost immediately and without Nick asking for information or Chelsea dropping hints. Most of the Smith Center's specialists had their own practices elsewhere, and all of them were highly regarded in their fields.

And so Nick had gone back to work even before his rehab plan technically recommended it. Chelsea hadn't been about to try to dissuade him, not when he'd looked at the employment contract like it was water in the desert.

He needed to feel like a functioning member of society, and besides, there was genome mapping involved. She got that.

But the new job had also made their schedules less compatible. They had managed weekly dates, but they hadn't quite managed the kind of alone time they'd had in Hope's pool before the neighbor had so rudely interrupted.

Today was a holiday, though, and on holidays Chelsea _celebrated_.

Nick knocked on the door. She knew it was him because he knocked shave-and-a-haircut rather than knocking like a normal person. The nerd who turned into a goofball on special occasions had never been completely buried beneath the smug, calculating creature who had wound up in her hospital with three bullet holes in his chest.

Thank God.

Chelsea peeked through the peephole anyway (she didn't want to give any passing neighbors a thrill, even if they did deserve something to be thankful for) and threw open the door.

Nick's jaw dropped, which was gratifying. Apparently the genius had thought she actually wanted to watch the parade.

(She had DVRd it so she could fastforward to the Jimmy Neutron balloon. _Obviously_.)

"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to come in?" she asked him.

"I'll come in," he decided.

"Good choice," she told him, as he closed and locked the door before dropping the bag he carried and devouring her lips with his own.

She dragged him toward her bedroom, tugging at his clothes as they went. There _was_ something alluring about being mostly naked while he was fully clothed, but they could save that experience for another time.

She'd planned to whisper "is this okay?" against his lips. Some of the less savory guests at the Smith Center required repeated lectures about the concept affirmative consent, and Chelsea had thought that, Nick's past being what it was, she should be absolutely certain that he was ready for this step. It had been bad enough that she'd kissed him before he was ready.

But before she could get the words out, Nick was simultaneously unhooking her bra with one hand, guiding her to the bed with his other hand, and kissing her neck in a way that made it very hard to think. She decided that it was more than clear that this was okay.

Better than okay.

She'd been prepared to guide Nick through doing exactly what she liked. When she'd had sex for the very first time, she hadn't known enough about her body to direct Nick properly, and he hadn't been experienced enough to figure it out for himself through his own sensory overload. Her relationship with Max (who had slept with what seemed like three-quarters of the women on two continents, including at least two of Chelsea's best friends) had given her quite an education on preferences and possibilities.

But in between prison and hospitalization, it seemed that Nick had done some learning of his own. Without being told, he knew things that made her mind go white with pleasure.

All plans and preparations were pushed aside in favor of _want_. She wanted this. Not just the physical contact, but _him_, and _him and her_. It was inescapable and she had no desire to escape. No desire to run and hide.

For a moment, frantic kisses and caresses drew to a stop and Nick pulled back enough to look in Chelsea's eyes. The adoration there was easy to see, and she felt herself reflecting it back to him.

Not just sex, then. Love. As if there had been any doubt.

It was her last coherent thought before she lost herself completely to sensation.

* * *

When things had come to a very satisfactory conclusion (twice), Chelsea lay tangled in the sheets and traced her finger over the scars on Nick's chest that hadn't been there the last time they'd lain in bed this way.

Where had they been the last time? Her room at the sorority house, right before the plane crash and her father's need for a pancreatic transplant? There had been too much lost time between then and now, and to top it off she had almost lost him forever. That was not acceptable.

Nick caught her hand in his and kissed it. "No brooding. Not today," he told her.

"I don't brood," said Chelsea. "I'm a woman of action."

"I appreciate that," he said with a smile that made her kiss him on the lips.

Her phone rang as they broke apart. "I meant to turn that off," she said.

"You should answer," he told her. "We have to get up soon, anyway."

Chelsea found the phone on the table beside her bed and looked at the caller ID. "It's my Granny Kate," she announced.

"I'll… leave, or something," said Nick, obviously not even wanting to be in the same room as Kate's disembodied voice.

Chelsea shook her head. "Go down on me."

"What?"

"I know you know what I meant. You demonstrated that earlier right before we-"

"Chelsea, you do not want to talk to your grandmother while I…"

"I know that you're never going to take revenge on Granny Kate for some of the things she's done. But they say living well is the best revenge."

With that, Chelsea pushed the answer button on her phone. "Hi, Granny Kate," said Chelsea. "Long time, no talk."

"I hope I haven't interrupted your Thanksgiving dinner, Baby," said Kate. "You wouldn't have answered if I had, I hope."

"Nope, we're having a late dinner," said Chelsea. "We will have to get going soon, though." She cast a meaningful glance at Nick, who was perched on the edge of the bed and making no move to follow her instructions. At least he hadn't bolted from the room entirely. Chelsea wanted him to hear her side of the conversation more than she wanted a third orgasm. Although she certainly would have taken both.

"Who exactly is _we_?" asked Kate.

"Some of my co-workers and me," said Chelsea. It wasn't technically a lie. Marie Horton was on the Smith Center's list of approved emergency help. She'd come in twice since the end of the lockdown, mainly because she liked everyone there and everyone there liked her.

"I heard a rumor that you might have someone special in your life," said Kate.

"I have lots of special people in my life," said Chelsea guilelessly. "I'm lucky that way." She smiled at Nick, and was rewarded with a swipe of his tongue right where she'd suggested it. She gasped despite having been prepared. Her body was still sensitive and wired from their earlier activities.

"Are you all right?" asked Kate.

"Just thought I saw a spider," said Chelsea, as Nick decided to use his fingers as well as his tongue. She gulped. "There are a lot of them in this apartment."

"Maybe that's a sign that you should move back to Salem and be closer to your family."

"My Mom and Dad don't live in Salem anymore," said Chelsea.

"What am I? Chopped liver? Never mind, don't answer that. You have plenty of family here. You have three grandparents, a sister, aunts, uncles, cousins… for example, I spoke to your cousin Will today."

"And what did he say?" asked Chelsea, trying not to sound too breathless. Nick's tongue flicked at her most sensitive spot, and she held her finger over the mute button just in case. It seemed like cheating, but this game had been her idea and she made the rules.

"He told me all about the Horton Thanksgiving dinner, to which I was not invited despite being the mother of a Horton and the grandmother of two more. Even a great-grandmother now."

"Did you want to go?" asked Chelsea.

"That's not the point," said Kate. "Anyway, the name of your old flame came up. Nicholas Fallon."

"_Nicholas Fallon_," Chelsea repeated emphatically, and she thought that Kate, with her past as a call girl of all things, would recognize ecstasy where she heard it because Nick was doing things with his mouth that he definitely hadn't known about when they'd been kids and Chelsea was about thirty seconds from being pushed over the edge.

But Kate only heard what Kate wanted to hear. "You need to stay away from him."

"I won't ever get any closer to him than I am right this minute. I promise," said Chelsea.

"Are you just saying that to get me off the phone?" asked Kate.

"No. It's the truth." Chelsea bit her lip to swallow a gasp. If Nick did that one more time… "But I do have to get ready for that dinner. I'm expected to… come. Really soon."

Lips and tongue and fingers worked in tandem.

"I'll say goodbye then," said Kate.

"Bye," said Chelsea. With her last shred of consciousness, she hit the "end" button. The phone clattered to the floor.

She screamed Nick's name as every nerve in her body fired simultaneously.

It took a few moments for her to come back to herself and ask Nick to put his arms around her. She felt bereft until he complied.

"Are you all right?"

"All right?" she asked, hugging him tightly. "I've never, ever been this good before." There were still aftershocks coursing through her body. She didn't think that she'd be able to stand up if the room were on fire around them. "There is one problem."

"What?" asked Nick. The sweet concern on his face inspired her to kiss him again. He had nice lips. Very, very nice lips.

"I don't know how I'm going to get out of this bed and over to your family's house."

"Oh." Nick relaxed beside her. "That is a problem. I was thinking you were worried about the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"We missed the parade," said Nick seriously. "We didn't get to see the Jimmy Neutron balloon."

"I DVRd it," said Chelsea, just as seriously. "We can skip to that part and not bother with the rest."

Nick's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I love you," he said, and then his arms tensed around her. "I mean," he began.

She kissed him before he could clarify or take it back. "I love you, too," she told him. "Always have. Always will."

"Don't say you always have," said Nick. "You shouldn't say that kind of thing except when it's true."

"It is true, though." She ran her fingers over his back and shoulder, flinching inwardly as she touched one of the scars. Nick shivered, too. "I've been in love with other men, or at least with Max. I was infatuated with Daniel. Maybe Jett, too. But in some way, in some form, there's always been you. I knew that when I thought I'd never see you again. I knew it when I _did_ see you again when I thought you were dead. I love you, Nick. I love you."

"I love you," said Nick again, and this time the words were weighted with meaning instead of light and spontaneous.

She kissed him once more and savored the feeling of his arms around her. "There's no way we're getting out of that dinner, is there?" she asked.

"If we don't get over there, they'll come looking for us," Nick agreed.

"I _guess_ I can face a delicious meal that I didn't have to cook if I'm with you," Chelsea mused.

She thought that she could face anything with him, really. But that promise would come later.

**The end.**

**Author's Note**: _Huh. So I started this fic 100,000 words and a year ago because I was grouchy about Nick's past being shoved aside so he could turn evil and get murdered. I threw a little Aiden/Hope in there because I was enjoying them, and now I'm finishing up… just in time for Aiden's past to be shoved aside so he can turn evil and get murdered. This show and I maybe are not a good match. _

_But don't worry. I will NOT subject you to my Days/OLTL crossover crackfic where Aiden and Eli Clarke file a class action lawsuit in the soap character afterlife on behalf of all characters who were revealed to be evil in a way that makes no sense._

_Anyway, thank you again for reading and reviewing. And RHatch89, the discussion of Nick at the Horton dinner table and the conversation between Chelsea and Kate were for you. I didn't originally plan that. :) _


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